The 4th Quarter Quell
by District 9 Tribute
Summary: "For the Fourth Quarter Quell, the tributes from the odd-numbered districts must be volunteers, while the others have no volunteers." 15 year old Mimosa Oakley from District 7 is sure the odds are not in her favor when her sister's name is called at the reaping, and she's thrown into the arena. Twenty three will perish, will Mimosa be one of them? Rated T because: Hunger Games.
1. Reaping Part 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. All concepts, characters, plot and settings belong to Suzanne Collins.**

Trill is pressing against me, Hickory under my other arm. This is how I wake on reaping day. My little sister, Trill, is wrapped in the thin blanket that we share with Hickory, our brother. She's scared. Trill is thirteen, and her name is going into the reaping ball twice this year. But this year is the 100th Hunger Games, the 4th Quarter Quell.

Slowly, I ease myself out of the bed, careful not to wake Hickory and Trill. It doesn't work. Trill stirs, and sleepily opens her green eyes.

"Mimosa, where are you going?" Trill asks.

"I'm just leaving for a little bit," I answer. "Go back to sleep." Trill nods and cuddles next to Hickory.

I tiptoe past my mother's mattress, but she doesn't wake, even though the floorboards creak under my step. My mother turns restlessly. Her fingers curl and uncurl. My mother is a paper-maker, and Trill helps her sometimes, but Trill is usually at the market, where she sells vegetables and herbs from our garden to the wealthier people of District 7. My mother always turns like this the night before the reaping, even when it was just me at risk. Next year, all of her children's names will be in the reaping pool. If we aren't killed this year.

In a curtained-off corner lies my clothes for working in the fields chopping trees. Soft leather boots that have sculpted around my feet. A worn leather jacket that belonged to my father. Simple black pants and olive green shirt. I head out the door.

The cobble streets leading to the tree fields are empty. Even at dawn, this street is packed with men, women, and some children going to cut down trees until dusk. It's hard work, I know. I've been working there for five years, ever since I was ten. I worked with my father for a couple years, but there are accidents where trees fall on the opposite side workers thought they would. My father was caught in one of these. I was twelve, Trill was ten and Hickory was eight. I still have nightmares about it, watching helpless again as the tree toppled.

Once at the fields, I grab my axe off one of the many racks at the entrance, and weave in between the trunks, the stumps, and piles of wood chips that have been collected from around the trees. My foot is about to step down, but I stop myself. Growing in a clump, are light purple spheres. Most people wouldn't think that they are flowers, but they are. They are mimosas, the flower I was named for.

In case you don't know, mimosas close when something touches them. But they stay open when I pick them. My mother used to joke that she changed my name when she brought me as a baby to these fields to visit my father. Apparently, I touched this very patch, and the flowers kept their petals open to the world.

I hurry past the flowers, to the edge of the fields. A large, wooden fence thirty feet high and topped with spikes lies in my path. This is the only safe part of the fence surrounding District 7, as the rest is electrified chain links. The bottom of some of the logs have rotted and long since been kicked to nothing. I debate whether or not to go under. Then decide not to. The district will be crawling with Peacekeepers soon.

I see another patch of flowers, these ones white. They have three petals, with dark green leaves between the petals. A trillium. Trill was named after these. I pluck one, and put it in my pocket. She can wear it for the reaping.

I turn to the tree next to me, and raise the axe. Something about chopping trees calms me. And it must help other people, too, because there are others here with me.

"Mimosa!" I look away from the tree—which has a good-sized divot in it—and see my best friend Forrest. He has an axe in his hand.

"Hey, Forrest," I say, turning back to the tree. Th-whack! The blade enters the hole again. "Ready for today?"

"Not really," Forrest answers, and starts on a tree next to mine. "All I could think last night was what if Barkley's picked?" Barkley is Forrest's younger brother.

"He only has, what, two slips?" My muscles burn as I lift the axe again. I bring it down with all the strength I can muster, and the tree sways. One more time. It topples.

"Yeah, but who knows what will happen?" Forrests responds. His tree falls, too.

But the same fears have plagued me, too. What if Trill is picked? Hickory isn't old enough yet, but it still could happen when they're both reaped the same year….

"How many times do you have your name in this year?" Forrest asks me. I pause to think for a second.

"Twenty-four." I glance at his face as the news sinks in. "You?"

"Thirty," he says without hesitation. "Five times the chance I could be chosen for a Quarter Quell."

"You'll be fine," I reassure him. I put the axe in my belt and drag the downed tree out of the pathway. Forrest helps me, even though I don't need it. Then we start on his tree.

"You'll be fine, too," he says when we finish.

"Thanks," I whisper. "I'm going to climb. Want to come with me?"

"Sure," Forrest says, and my instincts take over, my arms moving up in their own, my fingers curling around the rough bark. I pull myself up, and did a foothold. Then again and again until I've reached the top. Forrest is only halfway up.

I love this view. From this tree, which I've climbed ever since I was ten, the Victor's Village is seen. On some days, it fills me with hope, seeing the homes of the strongest in the district. Today it only reminds me that two people in the district will be sent into the Hunger Games.

"It's time to go, Mimosa," Forrest says. I let the breeze cool my face ft a moment longer, then we climb down.

"See you at eleven," I say once we reach the bottom.

"Bye, Mimosa," Forrest says, and walks back to his home.

Back at my wooden home, Hickory is ready and my mother is doing Trill's hair in an elegant ponytail over her shoulder. I pull the flower out of my pocket, and tuck it behind Trill's ear. Back in the curtained corner, a tub of water sits. I bathe away the dirt and leaves from the blueberry bush, and pour ice cold water over my hair. When I finish, I pull on a light green blouse and black skirt. I picked this outfit out a while ago, bought it with money from selling greens from the woods.

Trill appears at my side as I towel-dry my hair. She looks pretty in a soft pink dress, and the white trillium is lovely in her brown hair.

"Your name is in a lot, isn't it?" Trill asks me.

"Yes," I say. "But yours is only in twice. That's good, right?" I brush my hair so it is straight.

"You should have let me take some tesserae," Trill tells me, and wraps her arms around my waist.

When I was twelve, my name was in six times. Five times for Trill, Hickory, my mother, my father, and myself, and another time because I had to. You can't take away tesserae, which is why I still have mine for my father. The entries are cumulative. So instead of four times, my name is in twenty-four. Forrest is seventeen, has a family of five, and has his name in thirty times.

Hickory walks up to us. He looks uncomfortable in the blue dress shirt that our mother practically begged him into. He's only eleven; he can't go in the reaping yet. But he has helped my in the fields for the past few months. He takes on that look that says he's nervous for me. I kneel beside him.

"It's okay, Hickory," I say. "I need to volunteer to go in."

"Don't volunteer," Hickory responds, and takes a seat at the table, where my mother places a plate of my tesserae grain bread. I have to drag Trill to the table.

As I take bites of the bland, rough bread, I think of the slips of paper with Mimosa Oakley written on them. The good thing is if I am chosen, I won't go to the Quell. I feel bad for the even-numbered districts, because no matter what, there are no volunteers for them.

At eleven, my family heads to the square. Every single citizen of District 7 must be at the reaping unless they are dying. My mother and Hickory peel away from Trill and I as we are nearing the square. They must stand behind the ropes strung around the perimeter of the square, holding them away from us. Even though the reaping doesn't start for another half hour, there are a lot of people here. I guide Trill to the marked section for the thirteen-year-olds, then walk alone to the clump of fifteens.

Banners with the seal of Panem flutter on the Justice Building. Camera crews sweep their aim from age group to age group, covering the tops of buildings. A collapsible stage has been set up in front of the Justice Building, consisting of a table and two large glass balls, one with girls' names, one with boys'.

Bounding onto the stage now is Delica Risio, the District 7 escort, just arriving from the Capitol itself. Her hair is a mound of wide, lavender curls, festooned with white flowers. Her dress is gold. She takes on of the seats and is smiling at the children in their roped-off pens.

Also slowly climbing the steps is the mayor, a short, chunky man with brown hair like almost everybody in the district. He slumps into the seat at the table next to Delica Risio, who is still beaming, but now glancing at the glass balls with the names.

I look back and find Trill in the crowd. Her face is paper white, the same hue as the trillium in her hair. I smile to her, a reassuring smile, as the mayor taps the microphone and begins his speech.

First is how Panem came to be. Next is the district's uprising against the Capitol, known as the Dark Days. Twelve districts defeated, the last completely destroyed, the Hunger Games were born.

The mayor recites the cards from past Quarter Quells.

"On the twenty-fifth anniversary, the districts were to hold an election to vote on the tributes to represent it. On the fiftieth anniversary, every district had to send twice as many tributes. On the seventy-fifth anniversary, the tributes were to be reaped from the existing pool of victors. And on the one hundredth anniversary, the tributes from odd-numbered districts—including District Seven—must be volunteers.

"Here are District Seven's past victors," the mayor says, then reads off the list. We have had ten in one hundred years. Two were female, and only half are still alive. Johanna Mason, who won a few years before the last Quell, steps onto stage, and behind her is Willow Tresses, who won four years ago when she was sixteen. Johanna Mason went into the third Quell. She's survived not one, but two arenas. Only one male victor shows up. Elm Ashford, who won the 77th Games pounds up the stairs, and sits between Johanna and Willow. The mayor is looking around, probably for the other victors, but they're nowhere in sight.

The crowd applauds at the sight of these three. A few yards ahead of me, I can see Forrest looking back at me. He smiles and I smile back. Then I glance back, my eyes searching for Trill, but they find my mother clutching Hickory's shoulders. Hickory waves to me, and I give him a small wave back.

The mayor introduces Delica Risio, and she jumps right up, walks to the microphone, and says, "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" A girl standing next to me grabs hold of my hand and holds it tight. Delica Risio trots to the glass ball holding the girls' names. "Ladies first!"

She reaches deep into the paper slips, chooses one, and dramatically pulls it out. The crowd is silent, and the girl grips my hand tighter. Even though I have to volunteer to go in, I'm still nauseous. Delica Risio unfolds the paper, clears her throat, and reads the name.

"Trillium Oakley!"

 **Welcome to The 4th Quarter Quell! This is my first fanfic, so it many not be perfect, but I try my best. :)**

 **So what do you guys think? For those of you who want to skip right to the Games, the bloodbath is Chapter Nine.**

 **Hope you enjoy!**

 **-D9T**


	2. Reaping Part 2 and Goodbyes

**Okay, in the reviews, glittergirl20 had pointed out that I'm having a mirroring issue. So here I will tell you what I have mirrored slightly:**

 **Mimosa's ally is a 12 year old girl (I loved Rue so I had to add my own)**

 **Her conversation with her stylist (who is anything but a Cinna)**

 **And the training scene (she didn't shoot anything at the Gamemakers though)**

 **That should be it! Thanks glittergirl20! Here is Chapter 2!**

The crowd parts so Trill can walk to the stage. Her face is even paler than before, her eyes hold tears but they stay in. Then my little sister begins the walk to the stage, and the tears in her eyes evaporate.

I'm in shock. Trill had two slips. Two. She passes me, passes Forrest, and is almost to the stage. For a moment, I forget what the card for the Quell said, and I think that I'm watching my sister climb the stairs to death. But it doesn't make sense, the look of calm on her face, the easy way she strides forwards. I start to shove through the crowd, but the girl hasn't let go of my hand, and I have to wrench it free. "Trill!" The choked sound hurts my throat as it rips out. "TRILL!"

She turns, and realization is painted across her face. "Mimosa, no!" she cries. I reach her, but Peacekeepers are holding me back, so I scream, "I volunteer as tribute! I volunteer!" The Peacekeepers let go. I run to Trill.

Trill's shrieking behind me. "No, Mimosa! No! Don't go!" She wraps her arms around me, and holds fast.

I feel Trill's weight leave the ground, and she's screaming louder. She is refusing to let me climb those steps, refusing to let me go.

"Let go, Trill," I say. My sister's arms give away, and my mother is there, Trill curled up and sobbing in her arms. She nods to me, barely able to do that without crying herself. I mount the steps, and look out at the crowd from the stage.

Delica puts the microphone in my face. "What is your name, dear?"

"Mimosa Oakley," I mutter.

"Was that your sister?"

"Yes." I'm so scared I'm going to cry but I can't. The other tributes will notice my tears, and I'll be labeled as a weakling. I can't let this happen.

"Well District Seven," Delica warbles into the microphone. "Here is your new female tribute!"

The applause is muted and half-hearted. I can see my family now, Trill and Hickory weeping into my mother's arms. I look away, and stare into the distance, where I can see the shiny train rolling into the station, ready to take me and the male tribute away to the Capitol. I fold my hands and hold them in front of me.

"Time to choose the boy," Delica says, and walks to the other glass ball. She chooses a name and reads it. I don't hear. Fear over where I'm going must have blocked my hearing. I see Forrest, and I know his next move. He wants to volunteer, to go in with me to get me home. He locks eyes with me. I give the smallest shake of my head, and he nods. He wants what I want.

"I volunteer!" The shout comes from the front row, an eighteen year old. Then I see him, tall with dark brown hair and eyes, make his way to the stage. He climbs the steps.

Delica pads over to the boy. "What's your name?"

"Fletch Lindell." Fletch has no fear, seems almost excited to go the the Hunger Games.

Delica pushes us together. "District Seven, your newest tributes!" She motions for us to shake hands. I turn to Fletch. He's about a foot taller than me, twice as big. My hand disappears in his. The crowd responds with applause that is quiet. Some people don't clap at all. Because the two of us—Fletch and I—were forced to risk ourselves because of that card, that twist to revamp the Games this year. The people show that this is wrong. But what can they do about it?

We turn back to the crowd, and the anthem plays. I begin to think about the other kids chosen at the reaping. Our competition. The kids that, in a week, will be trying to kill us. The Careers will hunt everyone else down until it's just them left. I shake my head to clear my thoughts. A little less than half of the tributes haven't even been picked yet. Why am I worried about them? But I know why. Because after a lifetime of Hunger Games, I want to see the kids that have risked their lives to save others, who were picked and forced to play because there are no volunteers for them.

All of this flashes through my mind in the time it takes for Delica to say, "Happy Hunger Games! May the odds be ever in your favor, tributes."

Eight Peacekeepers appear. Half escort Fletch into the Justice Building, the other half escort me. Delica, Willow, and Elm are all being walked to the train. Willow will be my mentor, Elm will be Fletch's.

The Peacekeepers leave when I'm in a room and left alone. Here is where I'm to say final goodbyes to the people that visit me. Family, friends. This room is beautiful, and rich. Polished wood panels form stripes on the ceiling and walls. A gold clock rests on the wall, above a red velvet couch. I sit on the edge of the couch, hugging a pillow close.

The door opens and in comes my mother, Hickory and Trill. My mother sits next to me, Trill on the other side, Hickory on my lap.

"You said you wouldn't volunteer!" Hickory exclaims, and burst into tears.

"I know," I say. "But I had to."

I want to cry again, but that still can't happen. At the train station there will be cameras again. Trill looks up at me.

"I love you," she says, hugging me tightly.

"Love you too, Trill." My voice catches. I realize how scared I am.

Why on earth did I volunteer to go? Because I thought Trill was going in to die, that's why. In that moment when I heard her name, an impulse shot through me, a protective one, and I knew that I couldn't see her on that stage. I just couldn't.

Hickory stares up at me, eyes filled with tears. He says nothing.

"You can win, Mimosa," my mother says, and Trill nods, agreeing.

But I can't. I know that my mother knows too. The Careers win almost every year, and all of them, even the girls, are bigger than all of the other tributes. They're the size of Fletch. They could easily take me down, along with everyone else.

"You need to win," Trill orders at my side. "Promise you'll come home? Promise?"

"I promise, Trill." And I have to.

Trill pulls something off her finger. She holds it out to me. "Will you take this as your token?" she asks. I take it. It's a ring. It has a band of darkened silver, all scratched up. The center holds a polished stone.

"Of course," I say, and slip it in my finger. I'll hold it close in the next days to come, a physical piece of my sister to hold on to.

The Peacekeeper is back, and Trill starts to cry. She and Hickory cling to me until the Peacekeeper tears them away from me and I say, "I love you! I love you all!"

And they're gone.

The door opens again, and this time Forrest is behind it. He enters the room and my brave face melts as he steps closer. I sink into the velvet couch, feeling tears build in the corners of my eyes.

"You need to come back," Forrest says. "Get them to like you. It's your best chance at winning." I nod.

"Forrest, I can't win," I say, the tears sliding silently down my cheeks. "I'll probably be killed at the Cornucopia. Or, if I survive that, by the Careers."

"It isn't just about that," Forrest counters. "You're smart and brave and everybody will love you after you volunteered."

"But it is!" I explode, annoyed. "If a giant brute from Two comes after me with their sword or spear or any other weapon only they can dream of, I'm dead! I'll never fend them off! I'm not coming back and you know it!" I'm screaming at him now, the tears streaming down my face.

"Mim, stop." I can tell Forrest is trying to keep it together. "You'll be fine. Just calm down. Don't do anything stupid in there."

"I won't," I whisper, my voice promising, and Forrest takes me into his arms.

Suddenly my voice is quieter as I say, "What if I can't do it? What if I can't kill the others?"

"You will," Forrest promises. "I know you will. You'll do anything to get back home." I nod.

The Peacekeeper is back, and I scream, "Don't leave Forrest! Take care of them!"

"I will!" Forrest yells through the door. More Peacekeepers appear to bring me to the train station. I am joined by Fletch as we both pile into a car with black windows. The car rolls up to the station. We stand in the door of the shiny train as cameras lock on us. My eyes flit to a screen that is showing live coverage of us and see that the streaks of red around my brown eyes is very noticeable. Then the doors close and I'm zooming away from my home, and I'll probably never come back.

 **What did you think? Leave a review and thanks again to glittergirl20!**


	3. Train Ride

Delica bounces over to Fletch and I after the train doors close. "Come, come," she says, gesturing towards a small hallway. "Your quarters are this way." As soon as I take a step forwards, I can feel the train begin to move. The speed is amazing. We'll be in the Capitol by nightfall.

Willow and Elm join us, and Elm takes Fletch to his room. Willow goes with Delica and I to my room. We walk down a narrow hallway and to a door with a reflective silver doorknob. I turn it and enter the room.

This room is fancier than the room in the Justice Building. A bathroom with running water, hot and cold, lies in a corner. There's a dressing area like the one at home. A simple curtained-off area.

"This is where you'll be staying until we reach the Capitol, Mimosa," Delica tells me. "You can stay here for the rest of the afternoon if you'd like. Just join Willow, Elm, Fletch and I for dinner at five and a recap of the reapings. Make yourself at home." Delica leaves, but Willow stays.

Willow used to live like me. Wake up early. Work in the fields until dusk. Go home. Until she was chosen at the reaping. And won the Games. All that I remember about those Games—that was the year my father died—was that, when it got down to the final two, Willow caught the spear the other tribute threw at her, and killed him with it. She became famous for that.

"Volunteering for your sister was very brave, Mimosa," Willow says in a soft voice. "I could never do that." I just nod. It must seem clear that I don't want company, because Willow leaves.

The rest of the afternoon is a blur, most of it I can't remember. It's not until dinner that I remember anything. I have changed out of my reaping clothes into black pants and a pale blue shirt. I slip Trill's ring onto my finger, and head down to the dining cart, where everybody is present.

Our dinner comes in courses, each one better and richer than the last. Thin tomato soup, green salad smothered in creamy dressing, pork chops and potatoes mashed with some green spice, petite chocolate cakes with a swirl of white frosting on top. A glass of fizzy water that smells like oranges. I take a delicate sip, and bubbles and the taste of orange floods my mouth. It's strange and I've never had anything like this before. Delica says over and over that there's more food coming. But both Fletch and I are filling ourselves because neither of us have ever has this much food in one serving. And probably never will again.

Delica pats the corner of her heavily-lipsticked mouth with a napkin when we are all finished with the cakes. "Let's go watch the recap of the reapings, shall we?" She patters to the viewing car, where there is a huge television and soft couches. I sit next to Fletch and Willow as the anthem plays and the reapings start.

They start with District 1, as always, and work their way to District 12. I watch as half the kids step up as volunteers, the other half without. Delica tells us information about each tribute.

"These are the District One tributes," Delica says. "Gossamer and Glint." I'm surprised to see that Gossamer, the girl, has dark red hair. So many people in District 1 are blondes. Delica chirps away, reading names. I do learn some stuff about our competition. The girl from District 2 is Thistle. The boy from 4 is Dock. The girl from 4 is only twelve; her name is Tellin. Another girl from 4 tries to volunteer for Tellin, but she can't. The girl from 9 is eighteen and her name is Quinoa. The boy from District 12 is thirteen, just like Trill.

I remember halfway through, seeing District 7. Trill being called, me, hysterical and desperate, screaming to volunteer for her. Fletch volunteering for the boy who was called.

Delica pats Fletch and I on the cheek. "Wasn't that exciting?" Delica asks brightly. "Getting to know your competition in the arena! Now off to bed with you. We'll be in the Capitol by midnight. Don't want you looking tired during the tribute parade!" She shoos Fletch and I away.

"So, Mimosa," Fletch says. "You volunteered for your sister?"

"Yes," I answer. I didn't expect Fletch to talk to me at all. "Who did you volunteer for?"

"My cousin. He's fifteen," he tells me. "Not old enough to be in the Games." All I can think of is the twelve year old from District 4, Tellin, and that she isn't old enough to be in the Games. And neither is that boy from 12. And, I can't believe I'm saying this about a Career, Thistle isn't old enough because she's only fourteen.

"Well, I'm fifteen," I snap at him. "And I'm just fine." I turn and march to my quarters. Once there, I pull on a silky nightgown, and crawl between the sheets. There's a thick fleecy blanket that immediately heats me. Trill's ring is cold on my finger but I don't take it off. It helps to remind me of home, of that canvas sheet that I use for a blanket, how easily coldness can seep through.

I can cry now. My prep team will be able to fix my face so it looks like nothing happened. But I don't. I'm too tired. So I let the blanket warm me, pull it close and drift off to sleep.

When I wake, the train has stopped. We must be in the Capitol now. I sit up, stretching, and put on a pale purple shirt and the skirt I wore at the reaping. I walk down to the dining cart, where Delica and the mentors and Fletch are all there. All the windows are dark. Off to the side there's a table piled with food. Eggs, bacon, sausage, potatoes—wedges and shredded—ham, yogurts, fruit, baskets of breads, muffins, pancakes, waffles, a bowl of ice with the bubbly water in plastic bottles, milk, coffee, tea, tall metal flasks filled with rich brown liquid. A grab a plate and fill it. Pour milk into a cup. When I join everybody, I dig in, stuffing myself.

When I finally finish eating, I look around the table. Fletch is leaning back in his chair, looking a little green from all the food. Willow is still eating, dropping bits of fruit into pink yogurt. Elm is talking with Fletch, already instructing him on the Games. Delica looks exhausted and is drinking a large mug of coffee. Willow turns to me.

"Alright, Mimosa," she says. "I know it's early but you have to know what's going to happen now. In an hour, you're going to the Remake Center. Your prep team is going to prepare you for the opening ceremonies. No matter what, no complaining."

"Okay," I respond. Suddenly, a bright white light burst through the car, and I knew that I could see outside. I couldn't help this impulse that shot through me. I race to the window nearest to me and stand on my tiptoes, peering outside at the ruling city of the Capitol. Of course, I've only seen pictures and it on television when the Games are airing, so I let out a small breath of wonder at the city. Rainbow glass domes, brightly colored cobblestone streets, tall buildings that match the color of the dome on top. And the people. The people with dyed hair and artificial eyelashes and painted faces and strange clothing.

Fletch comes up next to me. "Wow," he says. The Capitol people point at the train, excited. They know the look of a tribute train. They know that players in this year's Games are on board. I know that they can't wait to watch us die for their entertainment.

I give a small wave to the crowd, seething at their excitement inside, and I can hear the roar through the train walls. Fletch gives me a strange look.

"Why are you doing this?" he asks. "They want you to die."

"I know," I reply. "But if I'm going to win, I'll need sponsors. Now is a great opportunity to get them." A sponsor can mean the difference between life and death in the Games. And I'll need as many as I can get.

Fletch backs away and I follow. There will be plenty more times to get these people to like me. I walk to the train door, waiting for them to open, waiting for the Peacekeepers to bring us to the Remake Center. Willow, Elm and Delica join us at the door. The train doors slide open, letting the Capitol people see us. Letting the people that want to watch us die catch a glimpse of our faces.


	4. Prep and Tribute Parade

My whole body is stinging. My left arm especially. I clench my teeth as Devia, a woman with bright green hair, three-inch-long glittery lashes of the same hue, and pale pink skin, forcefully rips a strip of sticky fabric from my arm, the hair underneath coming off too. I rub my arm, trying to defuse the stinging. Devia sticks her bottom lip out, pouting.

"Sorry," she chirps in her idiotic Capitol accent. "It's hard work making someone like you look good." It takes all my willpower not to reach out and smack her.

Why does this accent sound so stupid? I don't know, but now I know why Forrest enjoys mimicking these people.

I still haven't seen my stylist, even after two hours in the Remake Center. My prep team needs to prepare me for our meeting. This means to remove all hair from my body, rub foul-smelling lotion on me, and scrape off all dirt and at least a layer of skin with a thick bristled brush.

"Octavian!" Devia shouts to a man with tomato-red hair across the room. "Get the pink soap!" I groan softly. I had been scrubbed with the "pink soap" twice already. The only good thing about it is that it smelled good. It is grainy and it hurt when it was rubbed on my stinging skin. But Willow told me what to do when this happens, and I don't complain as Devia, Octavian and Magnus, a man with with more plastic in his face than flesh, slather the soap on my arms, legs, neck and face.

"Mimosa," Magnus exclaims. "You look so much better!" The other two bob their heads, agreeing.

Well I might just say something now. "Thanks," I say, showing nothing but praise. "In Seven we don't need to look nice to work in the fields."

"You poor thing!" Devia says. "I can't imagine!"

"Let's get Portian!" Octavian shouts. They all scamper out.

I can't help myself. I grin. They look like mice fleeing the room. It's kind of hard to hate my prep team, despite their thoughtless remarks and dumb look. I know that they're trying to help me the best they can.

As I sit on the padded table, I can't help but run my hands over my smooth knees. Already the Games are beginning to change me. I shiver in the thin paper robe I was left in. This tiled room is cold. My hands twist Trill's ring on my finger without me even realizing. It helps to calm me down.

The door opens and my stylist, at least I'm assuming he's my stylist, comes in. I can't say I am prepared for this mess of a person in front of me. His hair is powder blue, styled in a single curl on the top of his head. His eyebrows are dyed dark green and his mouth is covered in silver lipstick. He is dressed in purple pants and a black and white checkered shirt.

"You must be Mimosa!" he exclaims. "I am Portian, your stylist."

"Nice to meet you," I say. Portian looks just like the average Capitol citizen.

Portian lifts a lock of my hair and rubs it between his fingers. He gives an approving nod.

"Very nice," he says. "I expected your hair to be much more brittle. I hear that there isn't a lot of time to bathe in District Seven."

"Especially if you work in the fields," I say with a light laugh. Why did I just laugh? The nerves have made me giddy.

"Let's go eat lunch," Portian suggests, and steers to to another room.

This new room has three plain white walls, the last is all glass, allowing us to see the city. Two low red couches rest on opposite sites of a lacquered wooden table. I take a seat on one of the couches. It is soft, comfortable. It feels like the one in the Justice Building back home. Portian sits across from me. He presses a button on the side of the table and our lunch rises from the tabletop. Tender cubes of beef and carrots smothered in thick gravy, rolls shaped in circles, and for dessert strawberries dipped in melted chocolate.

"So," Portian says, as I begin to dig in to the plate. "My partner Tatiana and I want to do something different with the tributes from District Seven this year. After a lifetime of watching the Hunger Games, I'm sure you know that tributes have to wear costumes that relate to their district's industry."

Because District 7's main industry is lumber and paper, Fletch and I will be dressed in something wood-related. Usually, our tributes are dressed as trees. This has been the case every year except one. That year, the District 7 tributes were put in tight jumpsuits covered in green leaves. It's always the same and nobody remembers us which causes out tributes to lose sponsors. I picture myself rolling out in the chariot as a tree.

"So what exactly will this costume look like?" I ask.

"Well, Tatiana and I want to change it up," Portian says. "We think that if we do trees, nobody will remember you. And I want to help you as much as I can, Mimosa."

"Will we be in the leaf suits again?" I ask, because they didn't look too bad.

"No," Portian says with a smile. "I'm not focusing on lumber, I'm focusing on paper." I do know a little bit about paper. My mother is a papermaker, after all.

"What I'm thinking," Portian says, leaning on the table on his elbows. "is that you and your fellow tribute Fletch will be dressed in origami outfits. Do you know what origami is?" I nod. Sometimes, Trill and Hickory do it, folding a piece of paper into elaborate objects. Trill tried to teach me once, but I wasn't very good.

"Excellent," Portian breathes. "I think you two will make quite a splash at the opening ceremony!"

A couple hours later, I arrive at the bottom of the Remake Center. Already, other tributes are there, trying not to move as their prep team circles them, adjusting the costumes. Everybody stops what they're doing and stares at me. I saw myself in the mirror after my team finished preparing me, but I still look down at my outfit. The tight lace and fan-folded paper around my chest and abdomen. The plain white leather pants and boots. And the huge headdress, made of multiple pieces of paper also folded like fans, all piled onto my head. My hair is in a simple ponytail in the back. I'm relieved when Fletch comes, dressed the same way. At least I'm not the only one looking like this now.

Devia descends upon me, and brushes my cheeks with pale powder. Magnus puts something on my eyelashes. Octavian stands back, ordering the other two around, pointing out spots they missed. When they are done, my face feels strange covered in the makeup. Fletch is watching me. I don't know why, but he makes me a little nervous. Maybe it's the fact that in a few days, he'll be trying to kill me. He probably could too, easily.

Willow and Elm are here. They congratulate the stylists and thanks them for their work. I see that the mentors must have had sometime with their own stylists because Willow's face is dramatically made up with huge dark eyes, full pink lips and blushing cheeks. Her long blonde hair is in an elaborate braid over her shoulder. She walks up to me and straightens my headdress.

"Make them notice you, Mimosa," she says. "They want to sponsor you. I know they will."

The anthem is beginning. I can hear it even through the walls of this huge room we're all in. Portian and Tatiana, Fletch's stylist, guide us to our chariot. The horses that will pull our chariot are honey-brown with some white patches. Nobody needs to bring them in the line because they are trained so well. The gigantic doors swing open silently and out rolls the District 1 chariot. They look gorgeous, wrapped in shimmery gold cloth encrusted with precious gems. The crowd screams.

The chariot for the District 2 tributes follows, and soon Fletch and I are almost ready to roll out. The stylists make little adjustments and jump off the chariot as the tributes from 6 leave.

"They're going to love you!" Portian shouts. Then we're rolling out the doors.

A booming voice says, "District Seven!", and all of the people turn to look at us. I've never had so many eyes staring at me. At first, I'm frozen, gripping the handle set up at the front of the chariot. Then I catch a glimpse of me and Fletch on a screen that is showing live coverage of the parade. We look so much different than tributes from 7 have looked in past years.

"Make them notice you, Mimosa." Oh, I will, Willow. I put on a dazzling smile and wave with my other hand. With my confidence rising, I can hear the crowd chanting our names. They must have remembered us from the reaping. Of course they did. The Capitol people remember the volunteers, those who are sacrificing themselves to save a young loved one that will die in a matter of days.

A small flame of hope ignites inside of me. I am a volunteer. I look different than past tributes. I am rememberable. Nobody will forget me. That means that I'll have sponsors. And with a sponsor's help, a stand a chance. So why should I give up on the Games?

I glance at Fletch. He's waving, but no smile, his face is a mask of hatred and he lets it show. Why? These people could help him! Send him food, water, medicine, anything that he needs in order to survive and win. But I don't question it. If he wants to lose, let him. Why should I care?

We are reaching the City Circle. I look down at my hand on the bar and see that my knuckles are white, as white as my costume. I switch hands, shaking the other one a bit to regain the feeling in it. The twelve chariots fill the circle in front of the president's mansion. Fletch and I are between the District 5 and District 9 tributes. The anthem ends and the president takes the stage.

The president stands on the balcony jutting just over the City Circle and welcomes us. He thanks us for being players this year, and reads the card again. "On the one-hundredth anniversary, as a reminder that the districts brought the Games upon themselves, the tributes from odd numbeAlrfhtred districts, and only those districts, must be volunteers." It sends me back to the morning of the reaping, with Forrest in the berry bush. With a start, I realize that the reaping was only yesterday. How is that possible? It seems like a lifetime ago.

The president finishes the official welcome, and the horses are pulling us back to the Remake Center. We travel around the loop, and all twelve chariots file back into the stable. The cameras follow the line of tributes, starting with Gossamer and Glint, and slowly works its way down to District 12. Once everybody is inside, the doors close.

Portian, Tatiana, and the prep teams are there, helping us down. I force my stiff hand to open, to come off the bar.

"That was magnificent!" Delica Risio exclaims, trotting over to our chariot. My prep team babbles swiftly and I have no time to focus on their words. The other tributes are glancing at us with… is that jealously?

Fletch is smiling now. "I think we made a splash, Mimosa," he says.

"Yeah, they really seemed to like us," I reply, trying to ask him about his appearance during the parade. Either he doesn't catch it or chooses to ignore me. I think the latter.

 **Alright, I have an announcment. I have a plan to do the 6th Quarter Quell, and in that, every district has to send 12 tributes. It's a SYOT. It's going to take a while to get all the tributes, so you can submit them now! Check out my profile for the details.**

 **Opinons on this chapter? Chapter 4, five to go until the Games start!**


	5. Training Day 1

Willow and Elm take Fletch and me to our floor after we've changed into more comfortable clothes. I've been in an elevator one time only, yesterday at the Justice Building in District 7. But that's dark, man-operated and slow. These elevators are made of glass, and shoot up so fast you can't feel anything. When I look down, I can see the people in the lobby shrink to nothing.

The ride to the seventh floor takes maybe half a minute. The doors slide open and Delica is there. She tells us that she'll be staying with us here until the Games start. I have to say, that's good. Delica will be able to get us places on time. Not that Willow and Elm won't, it's just that Delica can be counted on.

"And I've been running around, trying to get you sponsors," Delica says. "I know a lot of people that could be helpful to you." She elbows Willow. "They helped you! And…"

"Delica," Elm says. "They need rest. Why don't you see if dinner's ready?" Delica opens her mouth to argue, but then runs off. I smile. Elm isn't too bad. He can scare Delica away. Or at least make her leave when she gets annoying.

Elm turns and grins at us. "One of my few talents," he says.

"Your only talent," Willow remarks, joking.

Fletch looks at me. Why does he always look at me like he's asking permission? I have no idea. He's three years older than me, more capable of winning the Games than me. I just hope that he doesn't change once we reach the arena, but I doubt it.

Willow brings me to my room. It's huge, the size of my room on the train. My bed has soft gray blankets on it, and through an open door in the corner is a private bathroom with hot and cold running water. With a small tablet, I can zoom in and out of parts of the city, for different views everyday. Willow tells me to be ready for dinner in an hour and then leaves.

I go to the bathroom to wash the makeup from my face. There is a shelf with at least two dozen different-scented soaps. I rub lavender soap over a washcloth and slowly scrub the makeup off of me. When I'm finished, I look in the mirror and think about the past day. The fear at the reapings, hearing Trill's name called, watching her walk to the stage and to certain death. I shake my head a little, just to clear away the memories, and climb into the shower. When I turn on the water, a panel pops out with hundreds of buttons, each controlling different water temperature, pressure, oils, soap, and scents.

When I get out, I change the closet clothes to stuff I would normally wear back in 7. Changing into black pants and a white shirt, I take another good look around my new room. This will be my new home until the Games start, and, by some miracle I win, will be it too when I return here.

There's a tapping on my door, and then Delica's voice.

"Mimosa," she says. "Time for supper."

I open the door and she leads me down to the dining room. Just the two mentors are there. I sit next to Willow as Delica goes off to get Fletch. Elm leans across the table to look at me.

"So, do you have what it takes to win?" Elm asks me.

"I guess so," I say with a shrug. "I mean, I've worked in the fields for five years. So I'm pretty strong. I also can find food." Elm smiles.

"Looks like you have yourself a good tribute this year, Willow," he remarks as Delica and Fletch walk in.

Two young people dressed in white come in with pitchers of water. They fill our glasses as a third white-clad girl comes in with a large bowl of chicken soup. After she ladles a scoop into my bowl, I thank her but she only nods. Then I notice the way her lips curve into her mouth. I realize what she is before Delica tells us. She's an Avox.

We learned about Avoxes in school once. They're people who committed a crime against the Capitol, so, as punishment, they cut their tongues so they can't speak. I never thought in my life that I would meet one. And I will admit it scares me. Of course, Forrest and I could be turned into Avoxes because of our illegal hunting, but this has barely crossed my mind.

I take a bite of the soup, and immediately feel comforted. This tastes like the kind my mother makes if I can get chicken meat. I slowly drain the bowl, favoring each bite, trying to imagine that I'm back in District 7, with my mother and Trill and Hickory. Delica's voice ruins it.

"Oh my, look at this!" she exclaims. More servants are bringing in a salad, grilled beef from District 10, rice, and corn. I pile my plate, and stuff myself. I can barely hold in another bite when the dessert comes. A white, creamy cake drizzled with clear brown sauce.

"Oh, cheesecake," Willow says, watching a blonde Avox slice it. Willow whispers to me, "This is the best. You need to have at least one bite." I take the smallest slice I can find, and have some. It's delicious, but so filling, I can barely manage another bite.

"That was great," Fletch says, leaning back. I nod, and Delica suggests that we watch the recap of the Tribute Parade. We agree, and go to the viewing room. A television materializes on a wall across from a couch. The seal of Panem appears, and the recap of the parade starts.

Both Districts 1 and 3 make good impressions before Fletch and I, but they are forgotten at our appearance. We look so different than past District 7 tributes, mostly because we aren't trees. Our whole team lets out an "Ah!" when we roll out. None of the other tribute pairs make nice impressions after us.

Delica makes a few comments about the other tributes before she sends us to bed.

"Remember," Willow calls after us. "You have training at ten tomorrow morning. Meet us at eight in the dining room to talk strategy." We both nod.

I turn down the hallway to my room, rush in, and close the door. Tomorrow, I'm going to meet all the other tributes. The thought makes me nauseous. I crawl into bed, and try to sleep.

When I wake, I walk to the bathroom to shower. I come out of the bathroom and see somebody has laid out clothes for me to wear to training. Tight, stretchy black pants and a black shirt with red and gray stripes running up the sides. I dress, and, with nothing else to do, I head down to the dining room.

There is a long table filled with food. I sit at the table as an Avox fills a plate for me. I barely notice what I'm eating; my anxiety has returned.

Fletch comes down, dressed in the same outfit as me. He sits next to me and eats his breakfast. He doesn't seem nervous at all about seeing the other tributes face-to-face. Why would he? Fletch would be more competition for anybody in the arena than me. The Careers will probably invite him to join their alliance. Would he accept? There have been years when tributes from outside districts were let in the alliance. Last year, a girl from 10 was let in, purely because of her weapon skills. They killed her after she refused to attack her district partner.

Elm and Willow sit. They whisper with each other for a little while, then turn to look at us.

"So, Fletch," Elm says. "What kind of skills do you have?" Fletch thinks for a little bit.

"I'm pretty strong," he answers. "I can throw axes and use them, too."

"And can you find edible plants?" Elm asks.

"No," Fletch says.

"Okay, spent some time at the edible plants station. Make sure to memorize the poisonous plants. If you do, chances are most other plants will be edible."

"Mimosa," Willow says, leaning on her elbows. "Spend today learning how to use different kinds of weapons. You won't forget that as easily as you will plants and berries to eat. You can use the axe station because you're from Seven and the other tributes will expect you to be able to use that. But learn how to, I don't know, throw a spear. Shoot a bow. Swing a sword. Just something you don't know how to do."

"And if you feel like it," Elm says. "make some friends."

Delica bounds into the dining room. She smiles, and adjusts her emerald green wig.

"Time to go down to training!" she chirps, taking Fletch and I by the shoulder. Delica leads us to the elevators and take us down to the training room.

The training room is underneath the lobby of the Training Center. When the elevators open, there is an enormous room filled with racks of weapons, obstacle courses, and survival stations. All the targets are human silhouettes. I take a look around, and my eyes instantly find the axe station. I'll go there after lunch. Maybe Fletch will come with me.

Only two other pairs of tributes are here. Quinoa and the boy from 9 and Dock and Tellin. Somebody is pinning the number 4 on little Tellin's back. Quinoa is sizing everybody up, like she's already looking for a fight. Dock is standing there next to the boy from 9, looking arrogant and smug, like he already won the Games and we're beneath his notice.

The elevator opens again as a trainer puts a square cloth with a 7 on me and the tributes from 2 and 12 step out. Nobody speaks, not even the Careers, even though they stand together. The girl from 5 I think, and the tributes from Districts 8 and 1 come down next, and the boy from 5 arrives in the next cart alone. I stand there patiently, waiting for the rest of the tributes to come. When the pair from 3, the last ones to arrive, show up, its ten. The head trainer, an athletic woman named Atala, steps up and lists all the different stations.

"Don't forget to stay at the survival stations, too," she reminds us. "I know that seeing the swords is tempting, but a poisonous berry will kill you as easily as a spear will."

Atala releases us to move freely around the gymnasium. Following Willow's instructions, I first go to the archery station. I've never shot a bow before, only watched people in the Games shoot them. I listen to the trainer for a while, then decide I can use one. I lift a pure black bow from the rack and fit an arrow on the string. I locate the target across from me, lift the bow and pull back the string. It's tight, but I'm strong from working in the fields. I manage to bring the arrow back, but another girl next to me, the one from 10, is struggling. I focus back on my target, and release the arrow. The arrow hits the wrist of my target. Not where I was aiming, but it'll work. I shoot again and again until it pierces the middle. I'm okay, but this isn't my weapon.

I head next to the knife throwing station. There are two different racks there, one with small knives and the other with strange objects that look like squares with inch-long, sharp blade protruding from each corner. I call over one of the instructors.

"What are these?" I ask him, pointing to the weapons.

"Ninja stars," he answers. "They're fairly new to the Hunger Games. Would you like to try using one?"

"No, but I want to throw knives," I say.

The instructor nods, and shows me how to throw them. After a while, I'm hitting the target every time, but not always with the blade. Gossamer walks up to the other rack next to me, grabs half a dozen ninja stars in one hand, and throws them one after another after another. She smirks at me trying to throw knives.

"You know, this isn't that hard," she says, tossing a ninja star with a little flick of her thumb and forefinger at a target without even looking. It hits dead center. I don't respond. Wouldn't want to make enemies before the Games. Single myself out and become a target.

I stay at spear throwing for a little bit, but the boy from 2 is there with me, obviously showing off. I look around for the other Careers. Thistle is shooting arrows in a hologram simulator, taking down people with every shot. Glint is using a bladed whip on a circle of dummies, using enough force to slice them open. Gossamer is still throwing ninja stars, and the boy from 2 is still using spears. Dock is sparing with a trainer using a trident. What else would he use? He's from District 4, the fishing district. Tellin is weaving nets and tying knots.

I see a relatively empty station, the sword station, and go there. I pick up a long sword, and slash away at the dummies. Something inside me takes pleasure in whirling around, blade in hand, stabbing and slashing the dummies. If I can't get an axe in the arena, I want a sword. It's the second best thing I'm good at.

Lunch is called. I grab a bowl of the stew and find an empty table. Maybe Fletch will join me. He doesn't. Most of the tributes sit alone, looking around with scared expressions, like they can't believe they're here. The six Careers sit together at one table, and talk loudly. Already developing their kill list. I know that they're talking so loud to scare the rest of us, to let us know that we won't escape the arena alive. I hear Fletch's name mentioned once. It takes all my willpower not to walk over and punch one of them in the face.

"Can I sit here?" a voice asks next to me. I look up and see a girl who looks about my age. Her dark complexion and hair tell me that she's from District 11.

"Sure," I say, and she takes a seat next to me.

"I'm Blossom," she says, sticking out her hand. I take it.

"Mimosa," I respond. We shake. "Why aren't you sitting with your district partner?"

"Why aren't you?" Blossom snaps. "He hates me. Your's doesn't."

"What about those girls from Seven and Five?" somebody says from the Career table. I whip around to look at them, but only catch sight of Gossamer's red hair as she laughs.

"Don't think too much about it," Blossom says to me. "You can take them."

"Yeah," I say sarcastically. "Sure."

Lunch is over. Blossom stands. She hesitates a moment, like she's trying to make up her mind, then looks back down at me. "Want to learn how to use a spade?" she asks.

"Why not?" I respond. She leads me over to the spade station. Blossom grabs one, and thrusts it into a dummy dangling from the ceiling. She teaches me how to use one, and I'm not too bad actually. I wish I could practice against Blossom, but tributes can't fight one another until we reach the arena.

"And there you go," Blossom says breathlessly at the end of her lesson. I home in on the axe station again.

"Let's get you axe-throwing," I say, leading her over there. When I pick up an axe, instinct kicks in. It feels as if the axe is part of me, and I feel like I'm home. I show Blossom how to throw an axe. She asks for a demonstration, and I bury one in the chest of a dummy. It feels so good to use this again. Blossom and I stay here for the rest of the day.

"So you made a friend," Fletch says to me as we ride back to the seventh floor.

"Yeah, so?" My voice sounds vicious and not at all like me.

"Are you going to ally with her instead of me?" Fletch asks, his eyes still trained on the elevator door. "Some girl from another district instead of your district partner?"

"No," I answer. "What if she dies on the first day?"

"What if I do?" Fletch bursts out. "Huh? What then Mimosa?" He looks at me. "There can only be one winner, Mimosa. I want it to be you."

The elevator doors slide open. Fletch steps out, and brushes past Willow, Elm and Delica waiting for us. After a couple minutes, I hear a door slam. The sound makes me flinch.

"What ever happened?" Delica asks me.

"He's just angry at me," I respond. "I was talking with that girl from Eleven during training. He's convinced I want to ally with her instead of him."

"I'll talk with him," Elm says. He heads down to Fletch's room.

"Do you want to ally with her?" Willow asks me.

"No," I answer. "I don't want allies. Not even Fletch." With that, I storm down to my bedroom, and don't come out until Willow comes to collect me for dinner. She stops me for a moment.

"Did you really mean what you said earlier?" She looks hardened, like she didn't believe me earlier.

"Yes," I say. "I don't want it to come down to the two of us. I don't want to kill him. I don't want to kill anyone." Willow just nods.

Dinner is quiet. Looking at Fletch is close to impossible. I keep thinking about what he said on the elevator. " _There can only be one winner, Mimosa. I want it to be you_."

"So, what did the other tributes do today?" Elm asks. "What did the Careers do?"

"Gossamer was throwing ninja stars," I mumble. "She's pretty good, too."

"And that boy from Four was using tridents," Fletch adds. "Not like that's a huge surprise."

"Well," Delica says. "You two are as good as any of those 'Careers'. They get the same amount of training as you do."

That's what they want you to think, I think. I've heard a rumor that Districts 1, 2, and 4 train their tributes for the Games before they reach the Capitol. It's illegal, but I wouldn't put it past them to do that.

After dinner, Willow sends us to bed. I catch Fletch before he enters his room.

"Why do you want me to win instead of you?" I lean against the wall, arms folded.

"You have a family. Siblings. I only have my mother and little sister. Sure, they'll be sad if I die, but you're family needs you more than mine does. Seven needs a victor this year. It's going to be you." Fletch goes into his room and shuts the door.

 **So, Fletch wants Mimosa to win. Thoughts on that? Thoughts on the first day of training?**

 **Okay, I have one more announcment. 66samvr has an open SYOT, called Rebellious Fate, and they need tributes. So, instead of submitting tributes to my open SYOT for now, send them to 66samvr. One reaping is up, and I'm sure other people (myself included) want the rest to be written. Lots of spots are open, so go submit! The form us on the story, with is under my favorite stories tab on my profile.**


	6. Training Day 2 and Private Sessions

The second day of training, after Atala lets us go, I head to the knot-tying station. After a few minutes, Tellin joins me. She doesn't speak, but I watch in fascination as she picks up a coil of rope, and weaves it into a net. She does something to it, and tosses a dummy into it. The dummy is yanked into the air, dangling in a teardrop of rope. Tellin comes out of nowhere with two arrows. She uses one the stab the dummy's stomach, the other the neck.

I tie knots for a while, but end up watching the other tributes train. Fletch is throwing spears and nailing the center of the target every time. Quinoa is sparring knife against sword with a trainer. Thistle and Gossamer are using the simulator together, and Glint is using the sword station.

After a little bit, I perfect a complicated knot and a trap that will strangle a human competitor to death after they step on a piece of rope. I decide this is enough. If I can get my hands on rope or wire, I'll be set for making snares and traps.

I look around, looking for a place to go. Fire building. Pretty useful, but starting one can get you killed. I go there, mostly because it's empty. The trainer smiles at me.

I kneel next to a log set up there, and grab a box of matches. After a few minutes, I get a small spark that blooms into a fire. Then the trainer hands me two rocks and some dry grass. He demonstrates how to get the fire going, and let's me try.

It's a lot harder than it looks. After about an hour, I have a flickering flame burning on the edge of the grass. The trainer has to put it out eventually because I made it too big.

After that, I decide to move on. I'm heading to the edible plants station, but Atala calls lunch. I sit at the table closest to the Careers, alone, and wait for the Avoxes to serve us. Blossom is sitting with the boy from her district, and Fletch is across the room. I wish he would sit with me. I don't know why though. He'll be fighting to kill me in… four days. The Games start in four days. I swallow a wave of nausea that runs over me when I think of that. I try to forget I'm in the Capitol, but the Careers making their kill list isn't helping.

A round of laughter rises from the Career table. Everybody turns their way. Everybody is laughing except for Tellin. She's bright red, and trembling slightly. I wonder what they said.

"Who was she?" Glint prompts, and Tellin turns redder. I remember the older girl who tried to volunteer for her, but couldn't because of that card that made me volunteer.

Fletch catches my eye from across the room. He mouths to me, _Calm down_ , and turns back to his lunch. That's when I realize I have both hands clenched in fists. Slowly, I open them, and go back to eating my soup while my head swirled.

Why do I care about Tellin? She's a Career! Sure, she's twelve, much younger than a tribute should be, but she could win these Games much easier than me. Then I realize: There haven't been any twelve year old winners in one hundred years of the Hunger Games. The closest a young tribute has come to winning was the final four, and even then they were from 2, the district with the most victors. She's doomed.

Lunch is over. I clean up, hand my plate to an Avox standing in a corner, and go the the edible plants station. I already know a lot about this, but only the plants that grow around District 7. There might be more different kinds in the arena. And it's terrible to go in the Games from eating poisonous plants.

The trainer gives me two different plants, one poisonous one safe, and asks me to identify which one is safe to eat. I take a hard look at both of them. One of them, I've seen in the woods before, the other I've never seen in my life. But I know that the one I've seen is safe.

The trainer nods, and gives me a guideline on how to train at this station. Stay near the plants and berries I don't know. Minimal time with the ones I do know.

I look up, and see the girl from District 6 standing with me. She looks completely lost, scared, and I feel a little bad for her. But not for long. Because she's my competition, and sympathy for her will weaken me.

The girl introduces herself, but she speaks so quietly, I don't catch it. But I hear her say that she's fifteen.

"I'm Mimosa," I say. She looks at the number on my back.

"So, you volunteered?" she asks me softly, as another trainer holds up two plants for her to identify. She gets it wrong, I don't.

"Yeah," I say, thinking of Trill. "My little sister." The girl from 6 nods.

She leaves the station after five or more rounds of quizzing. But I stay. Some of these plants are completely foreign to me, and I don't want to die from eating something poisonous. No, if I'm going to go, it will be at the hands of one of the Career's weapons. But not without a fight.

By the end of training, I can identify every single plant at the station, even the ones I hadn't seen until then. I look around for another station, and see the girl from 6 at the knife throwing station. But Gossamer and all the other Careers except Dock are there. I quickly locate Dock, after the loud crash. I see a target a good ten feet away from him knocked over, a fifteen pound weight beside it. He threw it. He threw it and knocked over that target. I'm glad when Atala announces that training is done.

Fletch and I are in the elevator with the tributes from 12 and 5. Nobody talks. I can't help but think about the little boy from 12, about how hopeless his situation is. He can't survive. He'll be lucky if he survives the first day.

Delica is waiting for Fletch and I when the door open on the seventh floor. She ushers us out quickly, and sends us to the dining hall. It must be late if Delica is ordering us about this fast. Already, Elm and Willow are eating dinner.

"You're late," Elm says. Somehow, this makes me angry. Maybe it's the way he said it so bored-sounding, his face clear of emotion.

"I'm sorry," I mutter loud enough for him to hear. "We were learning how to stay alive. You aren't helping that much."

"Mimosa!" Delica exclaims. "Manners!" I just say nothing. I yank out a chair from the table, plop down in it, and shove a forkful of salad into my mouth.

There's something wrong with me! Elm and Willow are trying their hardest to help us win, and I know that. The Games are changing me, shaping me into somebody I'm not. Somebody deadly, hostile, not like a girl from District 7 who was plucked from her family and sent away to die.

"So, how was training?" Willow asks in the tense silence.

"It was okay," I answer. "I know every single edible plant there could be in the arena. The Careers were developing their kill list during lunch. Knot-tying. The usual training day."

"And you, Fletch?" Elm asks.

"I was spear-throwing," Fletch responds. "The girl from Two-"

"Thistle," I fill in.

"Thistle," Fletch repeats. "watched me. Then she went back to her district partner, and he came over and basically showed off until I left. I wasn't intimidated by him, either. I just had enough of him."

"Anything else?" Willow gently prompts. Her sweet voice brings it out of me.

"I like the little girl from Four," I burst out. "Tellin. She's so young, and if me or Fletch can't win, I want her to."

"Is she the one who made those rope traps?" Fletch asks and I nod.

An Avox comes over and takes our plates after we finish eating. I'm stuffed, and exhausted. Delica sends Fletch and I to bed.

"Remember!" she calls. "Tomorrow you have your private sessions with the Gamemakers! Get nice and rested!" Oh, that's right. The private sessions.

Fletch peels away from me and goes to his room, saying nothing. He hasn't talked much to me directly since he told me he wanted me to win. I want to win, too, but I'm just not capable. District 7 produces victors randomly. Willow won only four years ago. I'd be lucky if I made it to the final eight, let alone survive the bloodbath.

I lay awake in my bed, thinking about what I'm going to show the Gamemakers. Axe throwing, probably. If I'm lucky, I can score myself a six or seven. It's not the best score, but I could work from there.

When I fall asleep, I have a terrible dream. I'm in the arena already, being chased by multiple people. My hands are empty; I have no backpack, no weapons, nothing. An arrow whizzes toward me, and pins one of my arms against a tree. Quickly, a ninja star follows, pinning my other arm.

I'm screaming now, knowing it's the Careers after me. A net envelops me, and there's a pain in one of my legs. I look down, and see a spearhead slicing through my calf. I keep looking around, looking for my attackers, but there's nobody.

A pain in my back, repeating again and again. I don't look. I don't want to know.

I look down, and gasp at what I see. Three prongs, red with blood, are sticking out of my stomach. It's a trident. Undoubtedly, Dock did this. When he pulls the trident out, that's when I start to feel the pain. I fall to the ground, the arrow and ninja star that pinned me falling too. Then I see the faces of the Careers, all laughing and cruel and congratulating Dock. Before everything goes dark, my cannon fires.

I wake up in cold sweat.

Gray light is coming through the curtains. I get up, knowing it's too early to go down to the dining room, and go into the bathroom. I get in the shower, and experiment with the buttons on the wall. The temperature of the water dramatically changes, from hot to cold. I choose a soap labeled 'coconut' and the fierce water stream changes to a soft trickle of soap. I stand under it, and then wash off the soap. It smells great.

I dress in my training outfit, the one for the past two days, and wonder how I'll go about presenting my skills to the Gamemakers. Every tribute from 7 must have showed them something axe-related. So I'll need to make my presentation memorable. But how? I guess I'll think of something during training.

An hour passes, then another. I head out of my room, down to the dining room. Surely, somebody's there. And I'm right. Willow is sitting at the table, picking at a plate of fruit. She notices me.

"Good morning, Mimosa," she says. "Were you okay last night? I heard you screaming."

"Oh," I say, thinking about my dream. "Just a dream. That's all." Willow nods.

I sit across from her, and a plate of fruit and yogurt is set in front of me. I dig in, and Willow leans forward.

"Are you showing the Gamemakers axe stuff?" Willow asks, sounding like she already knew the answer. I nod.

"Just make sure it's memorable," she says, as Fletch and Elm come in.

Elm basically says the same stuff Willow said. By the time Delica comes to collect us for training, I've heard the word 'memorable' so many times I want to throw something.

The tributes from 6, 4, 9, 10, and 2 are in the Training Center already. I stand as a trainer pins a 7 on me, trying to look menacing. Trying to look like the girl tribute from District 7 will be competition this year.

Slowly, more tributes trickle in, and Atala lets us run free. I first go to the water purification station. Time seems to be going in fast forward, because when I look up at the clock, there's about a half-hour until lunch. I go to the axe station, to practice. The trainer there looks thoroughly impressed with me. I just smile. I've dealt with axes since I was ten. Of course I'm good!

I ask if I can practice hand-to-hand combat with a trainer, and am paired up with a partner. I'm doing pretty good. I glance away from my partner and see the Careers are all watching me. This fills me with a sort of nervous energy. I take a swipe at the trainer, but he hooks his blade around mine and pulls it from my hand. If this happens in the arena, I'm dead.

Fletch walks over. He whispers to me, "Throw your axe.", and walks away. Then the sound of laughter hits my ear. The Careers are laughing. So I do what Fletch told me. I pick up my axe off the ground, locate a target, and turn so my back is to it. I lock eyes with each one of the Careers, silently daring them to look away. Then I spin around, and fling my axe toward my target, a human silhouette. The blade buries itself deeply into the head area.

Lunch is called. I sit at a table and today, Fletch joins me.

"You really shocked them," Fletch says, motioning towards the Career table. They aren't up to their usual chatter, just whispering to each other, and I know they're talking about me.

I eat whatever the Avoxes gave to me, waiting for my private session to begin. They call Glint, and he heads to the evaluation room. He doesn't come back, and neither does anybody else. They call Fletch.

"Good luck," I whisper. He nods, and fifteen minutes later, they're calling Mimosa Oakley. I get up, and two attendants escort me to the room.

The room is about a third of the size of the Training Center, still big enough to hold a miniature version of each station. I look up, and see the Gamemakers. There are about fifteen of them, all wearing purple. They look at me with intensity, waiting for me to do something. So I go the the rack with axes. I take two, one in each hand, and throw one sideways, slicing through a rope holding up a dangling dummy. Without stopping, I turn and release the other axe, using my momentum to make it fly. It embeds itself into a silhouette, in the area between the neck and chest.

I look up triumphantly, but the Gamemakers look unimpressed. Tributes from 7 probably show them this every year. But until a great idea comes to me, I'm stuck with throwing axes at the targets. One move does catch their attention. I toss an axe at another one of the dangling dummies, and it slices through one of the legs. That leg falls to the ground.

Then, because I know that I must keep the ball rolling, I get an idea. I walk to one of the thick metal columns in the room, and tap it with my fingertip. There's no telltale echo that means it's hollow. No, this is pure metal. I back away from the column as far as I can get. I take a deep breath. If this fails, it's going to be humiliating. But I have to try.

The Gamemakers are literally on the edge of their seats, watching to see what I'll do. I take a moment to compose myself, then violently go into action, bringing my arm back and flinging the axe toward the column with all my strength. The weapon somersaults over and over...then buries itself into the column. The Gamemakers look impressed. One of them, the Head Gamemaker, I think, says to me, "You are dismissed, Miss Oakley." I thank them, and head to the elevator.

 **What do you think of the private session? Day 2 of training. Next up is the training scores and the prep for the interview. Then the interviews and... THE BLOODBATH! Almost time for the Games!**


	7. Scores and Interview Prep

"So, how was the private session?" Delica asks at dinner. Elm looks a little annoyed that she asked us instead of him, a mentor, but he quickly changes his expression.

Fletch gestures to me. "Ladies first."

I look around the table, suddenly not wanting to share what I did. Willow, Elm, Portian and Tatiana are all staring at me intensely. Yes, everybody is here tonight, even the stylists. Not the prep teams, though. I shrug.

"I threw some axes," I say. "But they didn't seem too impressed until I threw one into one of the columns in the room." Everybody turns to look at me.

"One of the metal ones?" Willow asks, eyes wide. I nod.

"My goodness," Tatiana says breathlessly. She's running her fingers through her long, neon orange hair, comprehending what I just said.

"Well, what I did won't sound half as good as what Mimosa did," Fletch says with a laugh.

"Then what did you do, Fletch?" Elm asks.

"I threw spears and knives," he responds. "Only at the targets though." This brings up a round of soft laughter from everybody, myself included.

Delica pats her mouth clean of any crumbs only she can see. "Who wants to see those training scores?" she asks.

"I want to see what they thought of Mimosa," Willow says, smiling. We all go to the television room, and suddenly I'm filled with anxiety. What if I still did awful, even with my last demonstration? How good did the Careers do compared to the rest of the tributes?

The seal appears on the television, and the scores are announced. Gossamer, Glint, and the boy from 2 get tens. Thistle gets a nine and Tellin and eight. What did Tellin show them to get such a high score? I don't know, but whatever it was, she's so small it must have been good. Dock pulls an eleven. I'm not really surprised.

I don't really pay attention to the other tributes until they reach District 7. I clutch the edge of the couch I'm sitting on, as they show Fletch's score. A nine. We congratulate him, and then they show my face on the screen. I'm so nervous and nauseous that I barely hear my score. But I do hear it.

Nine.

Delica lets out a squeal, and Elm begins to clap. Two nines. Those are the highest scores anybody from District 7 have gotten in a long time.

"I guess they liked it," Willow says, giving me a slight hug. I smile. We turn our attention back to the screen, where District 10 is just finishing up. I don't pay attention to the boy from 11, but Blossom manages to get herself a six. I can't help but feel glad for her.

Delica sends us to bed with nothing but praise. Just as I'm turning into my bedroom, Fletch grabs my arm.

"Nice job," he says, pulling me into a hug. "You're that much closer to District Seven." He releases me, and heads down the hall.

I don't bother showering or brushing my teeth. I just slip into a pair of pajamas and burrow into the covers. I try to imagine my family's reaction to my training score. My mother would just be shocked, Trill and Hickory cheering. And Forrest. He is just silent, thinking about how I didn't beat Fletch, how we tied. I smile at these images, and fall asleep, comforted.

Somebody's knocking on my door when I wake up. It's not Delica. She would be tapping, calling to me to get up.

"Who's there?" I ask. An Avox sticks her head in, and hands me a note. It says that I need to meet everybody in the dining room at eight. I thank the Avox, shower, dress, and go down the the dining hall.

Everybody is sitting around the table. Willow waves me over and quickly explains what is happening.

"So, Mimosa, today is your coaching session for the interviews. You get three hours with me for your angle and approach, and another three with Delica for presentation." I nod at Willow's words.

After breakfast, I go with Willow to a room, and she asks me what I'm like.

"I'm very protective to my siblings," I say, thinking of how I wildly volunteered for Trill, even though I knew she wasn't going into the Games.

"Yes!" Willow exclaims. "That's good! Play that angle while I ask you questions." She asks me questions about my life, and I pretend to be over protective. It's not easy. Eventually, I have to stop Willow because I can't answer her questions the way she wants me to.

"I'm sorry, I can't do this," I say. Willow nods, and tells me to be mysterious. Again, I answer her questions, this time closing myself up, not letting more information out than needed.

Willow stops me, and over the next three hours, I play every role from humble to cocky, from likeable to hostile. But in the end, we decide on me being funny, and protective when asked about my family.

We head down to lunch, and I see Fletch is in a bad mood. Whatever happens during Delica's session, I don't want to know. But when we finish, Delica grabs me by the arm and leads me to the television room. She puts me in high heels at least five inches tall and a gown that trails on the ground and is tight around my ankles. Delica makes me walk in circles, and I trip twice. The shoes are terrible because I can't balance on my toes and a thin stick holding up my heel. And the dress is only allowing me to walk a foot at a time, and my ankles can't move further than maybe three inches apart.

Delica shows me correct posture, smiling, and when to laugh in a conversation. It's terrible, and time seems to stretch into eternity. When we're finally done, I just eat some soup for dinner before going to bed. I shower, and my skin smells like lavender when I'm finished. I brush my teeth and fall asleep immediately.

In the morning, I see a trio of brightly colored hair. My prep team is here. Which means today is the interviews. Which means the Hunger Games start tomorrow. I shudder.

Devia smiles brightly. "We're here!" she exclaims. "Time to get up and let us fix you up!" They drag me into a room I don't really get to see, and set me down. They work hard, scrubbing my hair with something that makes it shine, washing my skin until it's perfect, and paint my nails glossy white. Magnus chatters to his companions about how he can't wait for the Games, and the two others agree. I can't help but think that they want to watch me fail to fight off death.

Portian comes in with my dress just as my prep team is finishing up. It's obviously meant to go with my chariot costume. The top is tight down to my waist, and pure white. The skirt looks short, but when I put it on, it reaches my knees. It is the same fan-folded fabric as my headdress on the chariot. Portian puts me in dark green high heels, at least three or more inches shorter than the ones Delica had me in.

Octavian takes to my hair, brushing it out and then dragging a hot, flat, metal plate through it to make it straight. Devia paints my lips with pale pink lipstick and makes my eyelashes bolder. When they finish, I hardly recognize myself in the mirror. I look at every one of them and say, "Thank you." They babble something out, and flee.

Portian guides me to the elevator. "You okay?" he asks.

"Fine," I say. "I'm just nervous."

"You'll do fine," he says reassuringly. "You have Willow Tresses as a mentor. She always teaches her tributes well." I remember the girl from last year, Illa. Her interview was flawless, and she would have made it to the final four, but a boy from 2, the one who later went on to win, speared her in the heart. I could hear her family's wails from my house.

The other tributes have already arrived. I see Fletch, looking nice in a white shirt with a dark green vest over it. In the pocket of the vest, he has a fan-folded piece of fabric peeking out the top. We line up behind the District 6 tributes, waiting for the interviews to begin.

 **Not the most exciting chapter ever, but it had to be in here. The interviews are next. Hopefully, that chapter will be better. Please review, let me know what you guys think. In case you were wondering, I already have 18 chapters of this written. That's why I have been updating so quickly.**


	8. Interviews and Arena Prep

The man who hosts the interviews, Jupiter Littleman, takes the stage. He just started about five years ago, after Caesar Flickerman retired. Jupiter doesn't waste any time, just says passionately, "Ladies and gentlemen, the tributes of the 100th Hunger Games, the fourth Quarter Quell!" The audience goes crazy and Jupiter announces "District One's female representative, Gossamer!"

Gossamer steps out, wearing a short, light pink dress with a frilly skirt. She waves to the crowd and begins her interview with Jupiter. Right off the bat, I can see her angle is to be likable. Three minutes later, the buzzer goes off and it's Glint's turn.

Districts 2 and 3 flash by. Tellin steps up to join Jupiter, dressed in a knee-length turquoise, green and gray dress, to represent the ocean. When I look closely, I see a silver necklace that must be her district token. Jupiter tells her about how good her training score, an eight, was. She thanks him sweetly, but later acts fierce.

The tributes from 5 are up, then 6. When the boy from District 6 is up, I begin to feel nauseous. I'm next. An attendant guides me to where I'll enter the stage, a small, dark hallway with blue and purple lights streaming in. Then I hear Jupiter Littleman calling Mimosa Oakley. I put on a dazzling smile, and walk to join Jupiter.

I can barely see the audience in the dark, with the bright lights focused on the stage. Good. If I see them, I'll get even more nervous.

"So, Mimosa," Jupiter says. "That was quite the score, especially for a smaller girl. How did you manage that?" I don't hesitate.

"Well, I can't share all the details," I say with a laugh. "But I'm strong from working in the fields back home."

"So, you're a lumberjack in District Seven?" Jupiter prompts. I nod.

"What's that like?" Jupiter asks.

"It's hard work," I say, getting serious. "Waking up at dawn and working until sunset. I work there with my little brother, Hickory."

"You have a brother, too?" Jupiter feigns surprise. I laugh, and the audience joins in.

"Yes, Jupiter, even younger than my sister. I'm the oldest."

"Ah, your sister," Jupiter says. "Trillium, is it?"

"Yes," I say, getting into my protective angle again. "But everybody calls her Trill."

"You, didn't look too good during the reaping when her name was called," Jupiter says. "Tell us about that."

"I thought she was chosen for a death sentence. And I didn't want that for her." That's all I get out before the buzzer goes off.

"It seems like your time is up," Jupiter says with a smile. "Ladies and gentlemen, Mimosa Oakley of District Seven!" I nod to the crowd, smiling, and walk off stage.

Jupiter calls out, "Fletch Lindell!" Fletch takes the stage, unsmiling. His face is a mask of hostility. When Jupiter asks him questions, his voice has an edge of nastiness. I don't really pay attention to his interview until Jupiter asks what Fletch thinks of me.

"Well, she's strong, especially for a small girl," he says quickly. "But kind of impulsive, so I'll protect her during the bloodbath."

"So you're going to brave the bloodbath tomorrow morning?" Jupiter questions.

"Yes, but I'm not sure if Mimosa will. If she does, I'll protect her."

I'm not sure either. I'll have to ask Willow strategies. If I should go in or not.

The buzzer goes off. "Well, I wish you luck," Jupiter says, shaking Fletch's hand. "I give you Fletch Lindell of District Seven!" The crowd goes wild.

The girl from 8 goes up, quickly replacing Fletch. Neither of the District 8 tributes make an impression on me, but Quinoa's angle was to gain the crowd's sympathy. Pretty smart if you ask me.

After the boy from 12 finishes, we all stand for the anthem. When it finishes, everybody is escorted to the elevators. Fletch gets separated from me, so I'm alone with the tributes from 1, 8, and 10 in the elevator. When the door slides open, I step out, and Delica comes bounding down the hall. She envelops me in a hug.

"I'm going to miss you, Mimosa," she says, crying. Fletch walks in, facing me, and stifles a laugh. I give him a look.

"Oh, you too, Fletch!" Delica exclaims, and hugs him. "I'll miss you, too!"

Fletch sighs. "Alright, you take care, Delica." When she finally lets go, Delica rushes down the hall.

Willow and Elm come down.

"You two ready for tomorrow?" Elm asks.

"No," I say honestly. Willow pouts.

"You'll be fine," Willow says comfortingly.

"Who wants to watch the interview replay?" Elm asks brightly. His face is downtrodden. How many years has he had this conversation with the tributes, only to watch them die? He won a little less than twenty five years ago.

We watch the recap of the interviews, and when Jupiter mentions the bloodbath, Willow turns to me.

"Right! I almost forgot!" Willow bursts out. "Are you fast?"

"Yes," I say without hesitation. The only person who can beat me in a footrace is Forrest, and then, only sometimes.

"Okay, I want you to run to the Cornucopia, grab your weapon, a backpack too, and get out of there," Willow says seriously. "And don't step off your plate until the gong sounds."

"Alright," I say. When the interviews are over, we are sent right to bed. I stop Fletch before he goes into his room.

"So," I start, smiling. "I'm impulsive?"

"Yes, did you see yourself at the reaping?" Fletch asks.

"Okay, fair enough." I shrug. "Did you really mean what you said at the interview? That you'll protect me during the bloodbath?"

"Yes, I do want you to win, remember?" That's all he says to me.

I go to my room, and crawl under the sheets. It doesn't take long for me to realize I won't fall asleep for a long time. I've never been alive for a Quarter Quell, but I heard that the arenas always have a twist even worse than normal years. What will it be like this year?

I close my eyes, trying to find sleep. An hour slips by, then two, then three. By then I'm still wide awake, slowing my breathing. Anxiety had come. Four hours gone, maybe five until I board the hovercraft to take me to the arena. Are any of the other tributes awake right now? Or are they resting? The Careers are certainly sleeping. And what about Fletch? Is he asleep?

 _I'll have to kill these people_. The thought frightens me.

I wonder about my family. Are they able to rest, knowing that I'm going to the arena tomorrow? I doubt it, but thinking about home, I manage to find sleep.

A Capitol attendant is shaking my shoulder, waking me. It's time. Time for the Games to start. I rise, and put on simple clothes that are on the foot of my bed. Not what I'll be wearing in the arena, but it's enough to make my hands tremble as I dress. The attendant guides me to the elevator, where Portian is waiting.

"Ready?" Portian asks as we board the elevator. I can't speak so I just shake my head.

Once we are at the hangar with the hovercrafts, Portian separates from me. There are two hovercrafts, one for the tributes, one for the stylists.

I put a hand and foot on the rungs of a ladder hanging off the tribute hovercraft and I am frozen in place. Somebody I don't really see takes my arm and inserts something into my arm. My tracker, I assume. The ladder goes up, and when I'm on board, releases me so I'm free to move.

I sit in the seat closest to where I'm standing, glad the Careers are on the other side of the plane. Fletch comes in, but he doesn't speak to me. He sits across from me, rubbing the spot on his arm where they put in the tracker.

We take off, and after about an hour, the windows black out. The arena must be close. Nobody, not even the stylists, can see the arena from the air. The hovercraft lands, deposits the tributes out, and flies away. Portian approaches me, and leads me to my Launch Room.

Once we're there, Portian gives me a light brown shirt and dark gray-green pants to change into. When I come out, somebody has put out breakfast for us. Just simple eggs and bacon and half of a bagel. I gobble down the eggs and bacon, but nibble on the bagel, making it last. My jacket is next to Portian on the couch. It's a nice russet brown color. Great for camouflage, especially on the ground. Maybe even in the trees. If there are trees. I picture a flat landscape, and shudder.

I finally finish the bagel, and Portian hands me my jacket and leather boots.

"The jacket reflects your body heat," he says as I'm putting it on. "And look in the pocket." I reach into the pocket and pull out Trill's ring. I completely forgot about it.

"Thank you," I say, putting it on my finger. I sit back down on the couch, suddenly overwhelmed with a wave of nausea. The Hunger Games are about to begin. Portian sits next to me.

"You'll be fine," Portian says. I nod, wanting to believe it.

An automated voice announces that there are thirty seconds until launch. It's time. My stomach clenches into knots as I slowly walk to the pod. I could be dead in less than five minutes. Portian zips up my jacket for me.

"Good luck," he whispers as glass slides down around me.

My pod begins to rise. I lose sight of Portian after about five seconds and I'm in complete darkness for maybe ten. I look up, waiting for sunlight. A door opens, and I'm blinded for a second. Then I hear the words, "May the 100th Annual Hunger Games begin!"

 **The Games are finally here! Before some of you go off on rants in the reviews, I based the jacket colors for all tributes from the movie. The Wiki website said that the D7 tributes wore russet brown jackets. You'll see the others in upcoming chapters.**

 **Next up is the bloodbath. Let me know what you think in the reviews. They really help, and I need them. I can always tweak my writing to make it the best for you guys!**


	9. Bloodbath

I look around, seeing the arena. It's clearly cut into quarters, one to represent each season. I turn back to the Cornucopia, looking for axes. I turn side to side, and see the boy from 11 on my left and Glint on my right. I see Fletch about three tributes down from me, positioned to run to the Cornucopia. I keep searching the pile, and with twenty seconds left, I see it. An open, lined box with two axes strapped down inside. Near it, is a black backpack. I can get those. I know I can.

The vocal countdown stops, meaning there are ten seconds left. I shake out my arms a little. Five seconds. Four. Don't step off. Three. Step off and you'll explode. Two. Almost time. I get ready to sprint, full out, to the axes. One. The gong sounds.

I leap off my pedestal, straight toward the box with the axes. All around me, the other tributes are running to the supplies. I reach the axes, and rip them free. There's a girl a couple yards away from me, already injured. She's on the ground, and judging by the yellow color of her jacket, she's from District 3. I run to her, and dig my smaller axe into her back. I pull it out, and sprint from her, to the backpack.

I run past Blossom, but don't acknowledge her. I grab the backpack, but another tribute reaches it too. He's wearing a black jacket. It's the boy from 12, the one the same age as Trill. We toggle back and forth, me with only one hand because I'm holding my axes in the other, until he pulls it away with a forceful yank. I tumble, my momentum throwing me forward onto the ground. My axes are still in my hand, but there's nothing I can do when I flip back over and see the boy from 12 holding a sword over me.

No, I think. This is it. But, no. A hand grabs the boy's arm, and spins him away from me. I gasp, seeing Fletch there. He really meant it. He is going to protect me. When Fletch shouts at the little boy, I jump, never hearing him so angry before.

"Were you trying to kill her?" Fletch shouts, and the boy from 12 shakes his head. Fletch apparently doesn't believe him, and throws him to the ground. He gets on top of him, and stabs him repeatedly with a knife. I see a flash of red hair, Gossamer, but I'm too shocked to try to attack her. When Fletch gets up, the boy from District 12 is clearly dead.

"Go, Mimosa!" Fletch screams at me. "Get out of here!"

I take the backpack from the body of the boy from 12, sling it over my shoulder, and start to run. But there's a boy coming out of the Cornucopia wearing a tomato red jacket. He's from District 6. I take my other, heavier axe and throw it at him. It sticks in his chest and he falls. I run to the boy, take my axe, and run away into the quarter that looks like spring.

Once I reach the tree line, I turn back and watch the rest of the bloodbath. There are at least ten tributes laying dead on the ground, and others are disappearing into the trees. I watch Fletch fall, and Thistle raise her bow and draw back an arrow. I turn and run before Thistle releases the arrow.

The cannons start. I pause, silently counting in my head. One, two, three… They go on until they reach twelve. Twelve dead. Half of us are gone on the first day. I wonder if Fletch was one of those cannons. Did Thistle get him, or did he escape? I'll know when they show the dead in the sky.

I begin to jog once the cannons stop. Hopefully, the Careers are injured somehow and won't hunt for a few hours or so. Or just want to go through their supplies. Either way, there are possibly six of them, all armed, and I only have two axes. The odds will not be in my favor if they attack me right now.

I come across a patch of mimosas after a short while. My fingers hover over one, but they close. This never happens, so this must be a trick of the Gamemakers. I stay wary of the patches of bright flowers after that.

A stream crosses my path about twenty feet from the mimosas. I stop there, and decide to go through my bag. I sit on a rock next to the stream, on guard, and zip open the bag. I shuffle through, taking mental notes of everything. A metal water bottle filled halfway. A small bottle of iodine. A roll of bandages. A knife with a tiny, razor sharp blade. A dark green sleeping bag so small, I'll be lucky if I fit into it. An empty leather pouch. A square of plastic. A coil of rope. And a pack of dried fruit.

This is more than enough. I slip the knife into one of my many pockets, and take a small sip of the water. I rest on the rock until I've drained the water given to me, then refill the container and add drops of the iodine. I put it back in my pack and let it purify.

I don't feel too bad, especially for it being the first day of the Games. I got supplies. I survived the bloodbath. I got two kills. I got two kills. I killed two people that have done nothing to me. They didn't even know me. The boy who went before me during the interviews. And the girl was a volunteer. She chose to come here. And somehow, that just makes it so much worse.

I keep a sharp eye out for other tributes. I doubt anybody could be so close to me, but I keep both axes in my hands as I hunt for more food. I'll save the fruit for when I absolutely can't find food. If I live that long.

Not too far from the stream, I discover a bush of berries. I pick one and get a good look at it. When I break it open, the insides are white. They're blueberries. I take out the leather pouch, fill it with as many berries as I can fit, and eat some straight off the bush. It reminds me of the woods back in District 7. The blueberry bush where Forrest and I always met. Surely, he's happy that I'm still alive, along with Trill, Hickory, and my mother.

The sun is setting. I head back to the stream, and pick a tree to spent the night in. I arrange a couple large branches I found on the ground into a platform between two branches. It's hard work, so when I'm done, it's almost dark. I spread out my sleeping bag, using my backpack as a pillow, and wait for the anthem to begin. The sleeping bag just comes up to my collarbone. Good. There will be some cold nights.

Above me, the seal lights up the sky and the anthem starts. I look up, and the twelve dead tribute's faces appear above me.

First is the girl from District 3, the one I killed, followed by the boy from 3. So the four Careers from Districts 1 and 2 survived. No surprise there. Then the girl from 5. At this face, I hear something like a sob. Her district partner, probably. And he's not far away. Both from District 6. I tense, waiting to see if Fletch's face will appear. No, it's not him, it's the girl from 8. The boy from District 9, Quinoa survived. Both from 10 and the boy from 11. So Blossom made it, too. The final faces are both tributes from District 12.

The sky goes dark. Fletch made it. I can't help but be glad. He must be hurt somehow, he couldn't have escaped a Career's arrow. I count on my fingers the dead tributes again. Four districts—3, 6, 10, and 12—are out of the race. The only districts with both of their tributes left are the three Career districts and… 7. That's the first time that's happened in a long time.

I need to sleep now. I barely slept last night, and I already feel fatigue. I arrange the supplies in my bag to that there's a divot for my head to go in. I lay down, close my eyes, then hear a scream.

It's very close to me, probably the boy from 5. There's a noise like he's being strangled, then a cannon. He's dead. How? By a tribute, or an arena trap? I lean over the edge of my platform, and see flowers winding up the trunk of my tree. This isn't natural. It's a trap of the Gamemakers.

 **Okay, the updates will get slower from now until my last day of school (June 22nd!). I was on break last week that's why the updates were so fast. Expect them to be about every other day from now on.**

 **What did you think? Half the tributes gone in the bloodbath! And two by Mimosa! Did you expect her to kill any so soon? Are the Games really changing her that much? Technically, thirteen died this chapter, I know. They weren't very important anyways, haha.**


	10. Poison

I flail back, trying to control my breathing. What if the flowers reach me and kill me? I peek over the edge again, but the plants are winding back down. I'm up too high. I let out a sigh of relief.

Now, I really have to try and sleep. I take on last glance around, looking for tributes. There's nobody. I lay back down on my backpack. The constant hoot of an owl and chirp of a cricket lulls me into sleep.

When I wake, there's a squirrel watching me from a branch above. I take my smaller, lighter axe and whip it at the animal. The poor thing barely has time to bolt before my axe catches it right in the middle of it's body. The squirrel falls down to my platform. My stomach growls at the sight of the meat. I take the knife from my pocket, and skin it. I wrap it in the plastic, and tuck it in my bag.

One by one, I toss the branches I made the platform out of to the ground. Holding my axes in one hand, I climb down the tree. Back home, climbing trees is a skill everybody has, even the merchant kids. I can climb up and down a tree with one hand no problem.

Once at the bottom, I drag the large branches to different spots, scattering them. I can't leave any trace of my stay. I dig out my water container, and take a few swallows. Take out the leather pouch with the blueberries and eat a handful of those. What I really need right now is a way to cook the squirrel. Lighting a fire can attract unwanted company. Especially the Careers, who I'm sure have been looking for victims all night and are anxious for another kill.

I walk away from the stream, back the way I came yesterday, towards the Cornucopia. Now, I want to get away from the spring quarter, go somewhere safer. But I'm not sure if there is somewhere safer.

When the flat stretch begins and the tree line ends, I walk more slowly, closer to the bushes. My brown jacket really is good camouflage. I climb a tree thick with leaves and peer into the Career's camp. All six of them are there, with their weapons and pile of supplies. Glint and Gossamer look extremely bored, and Dock looks angry. Then I see somebody else coming out of the Cornucopia, with a first aid kit. Did they let a tribute from an outside district into the alliance this year? I look closely, and see it's the boy from District 8.

"Look!" the boy from 2 exclaims, pointing. He must have seen a tribute go past. He grabs a spear and looks at Dock. He must be the leader of the pack this year. Dock shrugs.

"Gossamer, go with him. The rest of us will stay here," he says. Gossamer unzips her jacket, revealing a black vest with ninja stars in it. She take one in her hand, and runs with the boy from District 2 into the woods.

I climb down from my tree, and walk slowly in the direction the two Careers were heading. When I hear the running feet, I stop immediately and hide behind a bush. Fletch breaks through the brush, holding a spear. He has an axe hanging off his belt. When he sees me, he hisses, "Climb or run. The girl from One and the boy from Two are coming."

Knowing I'll never outrun them, even with my speed, I turn and climb the tree next to me. When I look down, I see Fletch and the boy from 2 facing each other. Gossamer is coming and she'll be here soon.

District 2 is taking swipes at Fletch, but he is knocking them down every time. When the boy from District 2 takes a stab at Fletch, he sidesteps, and the spearhead grazes Fletch's arm. While the Career is off guard, Fletch takes his own spear, and rams it into the other boy's side. A cannon goes off immediately and Fletch runs away before Gossamer comes.

When she does show up, she just stands there, staring at her dead ally. Then Gossamer starts to run back to the camp, screaming, "Dock! Dock!"

I wait to see if the other Careers will come back to take their ally's supplies, but no one comes. Maybe I can get to them. Inching down the tree, going slowly in case anybody comes back, I hit the ground, heading toward the boy from 2, the first Career to die in the Games. The hovercraft hasn't picked him up yet because I am here, too close.

I have to go quickly, because the Careers will be watching for a hovercraft, and wondering why one hasn't come. I roll the boy over, and unzip his backpack. He has some extra spearheads, three throwing knives, a roll of bandages, a box of matches and strange weighted rope. I take the bandages and the matches, pocket the knives. I don't know what to do with the rope, and have no use for the spearheads. Then, quickly, I flee the area.

All the birds fall silent except for one. I turn, and watch as a hovercraft appears and takes the boy from District 2. Fourteen are gone, now. Ten left. I'm doing so much better than I expected to.

I stop and take a drink of water. When I see the squirrel wrapped in the plastic, my stomach drops. I have to cook it before it goes bad. It's hot today, and the bag isn't protecting the inside very much from the heat. In fact, it's probably insulating the inside.

I travel for about ten more minutes, then stop to cook the squirrel. When I'm done, I leave the fire going, and hopefully it will attract the Careers to this spot. When really, I'll be long gone.

Not before long, the arena around me changes. The trees become fuller, and grass greener, and there are less flower patches. I'm guessing that I crossed the border from spring to summer. What will the twist in this quarter be like? Not the attacking flowers, surely. The Gamemakers wouldn't have the same trap in two spots. My guess would be something completely different, but equally deadly.

I see a small pond up ahead. I don't need any water, but maybe this is a good place to stay for a little bit. With my axes in hand, I keep a sharp eye out for other tributes. At one point, there are footsteps near me, but whoever it is doesn't come.

It's afternoon. I finish the squirrel, and my blueberry supply is dangerously low. I should probably get some food before nighttime. But I can't see anything edible around here.

I hunt for food for hours, but I can't see anything. I finish off my blueberry stock before hauling myself up into a tree for the night. Maybe it's better this way. I won't be lugging around food, and it won't go bad. If only I could find a place with edible plants….

I make my platform again with the branches, and roll out the sleeping bag. Just as I'm getting in, the seal appears and the anthem plays. I look up as they show the faces. The boy from District 2 that Fletch killed. And the boy from District 5. That's it. I take a few sips of water before drifting off.

A gnawing in my stomach wakes me in the morning. I dig through my backpack, and come up with the dried fruit package in my hands. No, not yet. I can keep searching. I erase all signs of my stay, and begin walking. The air feels moister than usual.

It'll probably rain, I think to myself. And when it does, I'm not surprised. For long. The drops burn holes in the leaves that they land on, and then I know what this quarter's trap is. Acid rain.

I run blindly, not knowing where I'm going, just trying to escape the rain. Drops hit my bare skin and send stabs of pain through my body. When I lift my hand to push a low-lying branch out of my way I see it's covered with bright red dots ringed with black. I scream, no longer caring if anyone can here me.

My axes are still locked in my grip, and the blades are fine, so I use those to chop the brush and leaves and branches out of my way. At one point I trip over a root, and it takes me minutes to lift myself back up. The poison in the water must be killing me somehow. If I can't make it out of this, I'll end up on tonight's fallen count.

When I finally regain my feet, I run, the rain droplets dotting my skin even more. All the places where the drops hit hurt badly, like each dot is being pierced repeatedly.

Eventually, my arm can barely lift my axe to chop away obstacles. I think of Trill and Hickory watching me. I want to tell them I'm sorry before the acid finally gets to me. But I can see a border coming up. Back into spring. Using the last bit of my strength, I put on a burst of speed and lunge toward the border. I fall flat on my chest, but I'm in the spring quarter. I drag myself farther from the border, and try to cope with the pain. Twice, I cry out because the pain is so bad. But after a course of hours, I can move normally again and the wounds on my skin have settled to a throb instead of a stab.

The first thing I do is pull off my backpack. It's fine, probably treated to withstand the acid. I zip open the top and take out my water bottle. It's a fourth of the way full. I drink from the bottle until it's empty. Now I need water too.

A tuft of mint leaves grows a few feet away from me. I stand up, which hurts, and go to the leaves. I pick a few and put them in my mouth. This relaxes me for a little bit. In the fields back in District 7, mint leaves are abundant. The people who work there chew mint while working.

I spot a rabbit hopping along near a berry bush. I take out one of my throwing knives—the axe will be too big—and fling it at the animal. The first one nicks its leg, and the second catches it in the middle of its body. I run to the rabbit as fast as I can with my injuries. I pull out the knives and use the hem of my shirt to clean them off before putting them back in my pocket. After skinning and preparing the rabbit, I set a small fire, and cook the meat. I eat a small portion of the meat as I hunt for water. The rest is wrapped in the plastic in my pack.

After about half an hour, I come across the stream I found on the first day. I fill the bottle and clean the grease from the rabbit off my hands, taking special care with the area around the acid drops, which hurt when too much pressure is applied to them. I add iodine to the water and wait for it to purify.

I quickly remember that this was where I found the blueberries, and go off in hunt of the bush. When I find it, I take the rest of the berries off the branches. I see a clump of dandelions and rush to pick the leaves. I take a small bite of one of the leaves, just to make sure it's not one of the flowers that attack, but it tastes normally. I pull up all the leaves and stuff them in my pack. Now I have food and water.

Suddenly, one of the acid burns begins to hurt intensely. I bite my lip to keep from screaming, and curl up on the ground, waiting for the pain to subside. What am I going to do? I don't want to use the bandages yet, I want to save those for a major wound. And besides, the pressure of the bandage will probably be too much for the burn.

I take out my water bottle and gently drizzle water over my hands, which took the most of the attack. I try to keep my face from grimacing, but it doesn't work.

Please Willow, I think desperately. Send something for me. Please. I wait hopefully for a silver parachute to descend but nothing comes. Either Willow won't send it, which is unlikely, or she can't find sponsors who want to buy it for me. That's probably unlikely, too. The people at home must have a pool of money going to sponsor Fletch and I. 7 does every year. Are they only sending things to Fletch because his odds are better than mine? Because they don't want to waste money on me because I won't live long enough to use anything? No, I don't think that's true either. Then why isn't anything coming?

I think back to Willow's Hunger Games. She wasn't sent anything until she took down two Careers at once—both from District 4—with a sharpen tree branch she used as a makeshift spear because she was a small sixteen year old with no weapon and the remaining Careers hunting her down. The district pool sent her nothing and the male tribute food and medicine. Until he died.

By dusk, I'm exhausted, and my burns are sore and hurt. I can barely get one branch up a tree to make the platform to sleep on. I drag one more branch up, and then stop. Two is good for today. I roll out my sleeping bag, climb into it, and tie myself in by threading the rope under the branches and over my torso. Now I won't fall.

The anthem plays, and seal is shown. No faces tonight. That's fine. It's been three days, and fourteen tributes are already gone, five districts already out of the race. I count on my fingers who's left. Gossamer and Glint. Thistle. Dock and Tellin. Fletch and I. The boy from District 8, the one with the Careers. Quinoa. And Blossom. Just ten. I settle in for the night, hoping that the flowers that are writhing around my tree won't reach me.

 **Thoughts? Not very much I'm thinking of to write here, haha. Anyways, remember to leave a review. It really helps me, and I want this to be the best possible story for you guys. :)**


	11. The Discovery

A pleasant, soft beeping noise pulls me to consciousness. I wake, my acid burns practically screaming at me for moving, and see a silver parachute swaying in the wind caught on a branch above me. A sponsor gift! What could it be? I'm hoping for medicine for the acid burns, which look even worse than yesterday. The black rings have spread further, and created divots in my skin.

After frantically untying the rope around me, I scramble up to the branch holding the parachute, yank it down, and climb back down to my small platform. I untie the strings around the parachute, and then open the container holding the gift. Inside there is one thing. A small, round metal pot. Sitting on top is a note.

 _This should help for the pain. Apply daily. It's from home. -Willow_

So the district pool could send me something. I open the jar, and see the clear, glossy substance inside. It's thick. I dip a finger into the liquid and gently spread it over the back of one hand. The pain vanishes. I look up into the leaves to a camera hidden there.

"Thank you, District Seven," I say, and then go to work covering my hands, neck and face with the medicine. When I'm done, all the pain is gone. I drink a sip of water and eat a little bit of the rabbit and some berries. I feel so much better than yesterday. Then I roll up my sleeping bag, and put it in my backpack, along with the medicine and the parachute. I could use it for snares or catching fish. It's big enough for that.

A thought hits me. The cost of my medicine must have been enormous. Does the district have any money left? What about my family? Surely they've contributed to buy this for me. Do they have anything left? I don't know and it's driving me crazy.

I go back in the direction of the Cornucopia, so I can watch the Careers again. Maybe I can pick up something useful about their strategies, now that they've lost a member of their alliance.

Even before the golden horn is in view, I can hear voices talking loudly.

"She's just going to slow us down on hunts!" I'm sure this is Dock.

"Gossamer was left behind when that boy from Seven killed my district partner! I don't see the reason to it!" That's definitely Thistle.

I climb a tree and crawl across a branch that hangs out over the clearing, but is still surrounded by other branches crowded with leaves. There are four tributes there. Thistle with a quiver of arrows slung across her back and bow in hand, shooting at the ground and looking angry. Glint with a bladed whip in his hand, whipping the grass around him out of boredom. The boy from District 8 and Dock are standing up and looking defiant. The boy from 8 is probably like that because Dock is, and he doesn't want to get killed. Then he speaks up.

"And the boy from Seven killed the girl from my district during the bloodbath. I watched it happen. And I want him dead for killing her."

"Who's side are you on, Eight?" Dock screams at him.

"Yours," he quickly answers.

"Dock, I don't know why you want to get rid of that little girl from your district," Glint says. "She's not like the rest of us. She didn't want to be here. Her sister tried to volunteer for her."

"He's not like the rest of us and we let him stay," Dock says, pointing to the other boy. "I'm sure he doesn't want to be here. What's the difference between that?"

"She's twelve," Thistle interjects. "He's like seventeen. If we really are cutting her, I say give her a pack, a weapon and send her on her way. She won't live for long after that. And if we come across her, then we attack."

"And why should we do that?" Dock snarls. Thistle turns to him and stops shooting.

"I'm fourteen, Dock. Tellin's even younger. You can't kill her because if you make it home, you'll be shunned for killing your district partner. Let her take her chances," Thistle says, and gathers her arrows sticking up from the ground.

So they want to cut Tellin from the pack. That means… if I can find her, I can ally with her. Where is she now? And Gossamer? Out hunting?

There's some rustling below my tree and I freeze. Gossamer and Tellin appear below me, Tellin's teal jacket not blending as well as Gossamer's olive green one. Gossamer holds two large birds by their necks and Tellin is lugging wood. Probably to start a fire to cook the birds.

One of my axes begin to slip from my grip and I can't risk losing it. I pull it back into my grasp, but the movement causes some noise. Gossamer glances up, and then runs to the other tributes waiting by the clearing. Tellin follows.

"The girl from Seven is in a tree!" she yells. "We can get her!"

I stay in my tree, but head to the middle and climb higher. When I peer out again, Dock is brandishing a trident at Tellin, and I can hear him shouting at her, "Get out! Go!" Obviously terrified, Tellin grabs a bag off the ground next to her and runs into the woods, into the winter quarter.

I don't dare run now, because the Careers are trained and can run longer distances than me. And they probably can't climb trees like I can. So I stay in my tree as they approach me, weapons ready.

"Hello, Seven," Dock says, pointing his trident at me.

"Throw it, Four," I snarl. "I can move in trees faster than you can on the ground." Enraged, Dock does, and I swing around the trunk and dodge the flying weapon. It sticks in an oak next to me.

Dock sprints back to the Cornucopia to get another trident. I can see at least two in the pile from here.

Gossamer whispers something to Glint, and he smiles wickedly, nodding. Then, to my horror, he begins to climb the tree with his bladed whip in hand. He gets about halfway to me when I realize he wants to hit me with the whip until I fall from the tree. Then they'll get me on the ground. But the branches begin to break under Glint's feet and he falls.

By this time, Dock is back with a new trident. "Thistle, you go," he says. Thistle puts her bow across her shoulder and begins to climb. She can do it. I go even higher and put my heavier axe in my belt. I'll need the smaller one now, because if I miss throwing or slashing with the heavier one, my momentum will throw me from the tree.

Thistle climbs with alarming speed and her allies are cheering her on. At one point, Thistle ducks, and Gossamer throws a ninja star at me. I dodge.

Thistle grabs my foot, and hauls herself up further, using me as a handhold. I slash my axe at her and she ducks.

"Come on, Seven," Thistle says, clinging to a branch with one arm as she takes her bow off her shoulder. "Try me." I want to throw my axe, but I don't trust my accuracy going down. And Thistle has an arrow in her bow. I climb down so I'm level with the girl from District 2. Then I kick her, and she falls.

The arrow, which I forgot about, frees itself from the string and digs into my arm. I cry out, and see Thistle on the ground, everybody surrounding her. She isn't moving. Taking this chance, I rip the arrow out, drop it, and jump from tree to tree, past the stream and into woods where I've never been. I wait for Thistle's cannon. She couldn't have survived that fall.

When I finally stop, I climb down from the tree and practically rip off my jacket to reveal the wound. It didn't go as deep as I thought. I take out one of the rolls of bandages and wrap it several times around my arm. Thankfully, I throw axes with my right and the arrow punctured my left.

I still wait for a cannon, but it never comes. So Thistle survived. She must be hurt somehow, too. We were at least twenty feet up.

I slip my jacket back on. Maybe I should stay here and rest for a little while. For the past three days I've been moving from place to place constantly. I'm tired, even though I've gotten sleep everyday. But the Careers will be after me. Probably. If not, they'll come at night after Thistle has recovered.

I pull my water bottle out from my backpack and drink most of it. After jumping from tree to tree over a ton of land, I'm extremely dehydrated and the full feeling from the rabbit and berries I ate this morning is wearing off. Finishing off the rabbit, I climb back into a tree so I'm safer from other tributes and any other arena traps the Gamemakers may have set up.

My jacket has a hole in it where the arrow it, and I can see the blood seeping through the bandage. I pull off my jacket again, and see that there is blood coming up through the thick layer of bandaging. I slow my breathing because it has become too rapid for my liking. And the sponsors won't like it. I gingerly push down on the injury, and flinch because of the stab of pain.

 _Just fight through it, Mimosa_ , I say to myself. I'll treat it tomorrow. But I must be gone by nightfall, before they show the faces. The Careers will be hunting me, mainly because I made them look stupid. And I know Thistle can climb trees and Gossamer can throw ninja stars up with accuracy. This may not be as easy as I thought. Still, I eat half of my leftover berries before climbing back down from the tree.

It's afternoon. I begin traveling through the arena again, and I don't stop. Before entering the summer quarter, I pause before going in, listening for the rain, but there's nothing. Still, I walk quicker than usual while going through.

As I near the border into the fall region, I take a break, and take my water out of my backpack. There isn't a lot left. I take a small sip then leave the rest. Who knows when I'll find another water source, so I have to make this last.

The arrow wound is burning and the acid burns' pain is starting to rebound. I should have left the Careers alone. Then I wouldn't have been shot, and almost impaled with a trident and a ninja star.

I dig out the medicine from District 7 and take off my jacket again. I unwrap the bandages and dab some on the wound. This does help a little bit, but this medicine must be made especially for acid.

I cross into the fall quarter. The leaves on the trees are red and orange and gold, and the grass is just slightly withering. I give a small smile. I love the fall, have always loved it, because in the fall, all of District 7 looks so beautiful. The fields are covered with a carpet of red and yellow leaves, and the woods are alive with animals. My family is always better fed in the fall.

The bright sunset leaves golden clouds across the orange sky. Despite being in the arena, it's one of the most lovely things I've ever seen. I climb a sturdy tree near me, and settle in for the night. Roll out and tuck into my sleeping bag. Tie myself in. I finish off the couple berries left in the pouch, and even open my pack of dried fruit and eat an apple slice.

The anthem plays, the seal materializes in the sky. No tributes died, no faces. When the anthem finishes, I reposition myself on the branch and drift off.

 **What do you think? Remember you can submit tributes for The 6th Quarter Quell. I've already gotten some (thanks 66samvr and FlyingHamburgerRider). Look on my profile for the details.**


	12. Day 5

**Sorry about the long wait! School has been hectic, lots quizzes and tests. But I'll stop now. Chapter 12!**

When I wake, there's a small black bird staring at me from another branch. I grab my small axe from the bottom of my sleeping bag and slash it at the bird. The blade clangs off its neck. I look at the bird in surprise, then frantically wiggle out of my sleeping bag, shove it and the rope in my bag, sling it across my shoulders, and leap from the tree.

That bird isn't real. It's a mutt. The other animals prancing around aren't real, either. As soon as they see me, their little eyes harden, and they run faster than no animal should to chase me. Rabbits, birds, squirrels, foxes, deer—it doesn't matter. They all have one goal in mind: to kill me.

I throw my axe at a fox who jumped in my path with all my might. The blade sticks in the fox's neck and the mutt falls. I grab my axe out of it as I run by, without stopping.

I begin to tire after a short while, but the trees offer no protection. So I slow my sprint to a run, and the mutts begin to catch up to me. Something bites my leg, and I stop, panicking, as I shake it off. I hit a large deer with my axe when it leaps toward me. It only gets annoyed.

I give up trying to fight the mutts, and just run. I have no idea if I'm heading towards a border, or just deeper into the fall quarter. The arrow wound is bleeding again from the physical exertion, and my legs are sore. My lungs burn and my throat is constricting as I try to suck in air. Quickly, I glance behind me and see at least two dozen mutts running after me.

I scream when a rabbit latches onto my arm and doesn't let go. I pause and whip my arm back and forth until the rabbit flies off. Up ahead, I can see the border back into summer. I let out a sigh of relief, but that feeling is short-lived. Several pairs of footsteps sound near me, and I can see an arm covered with the maroon color of District 2's jacket. It's the Careers.

I slow for a moment, but then speed up again. Maybe the Careers won't notice me. When I reach the border, I don't stop, still thinking that the mutts are chasing me.

"There she is!" somebody yells. Great. They saw me.

"Who?"

"The Seven girl!"

"That kid who pushed me out of the tree?"

"Go get her, Eight!"

The boy from District 8 takes off after me. I push myself to the limit, sprinting from the boy who wants my death. Soon after, his footsteps fade and I climb the tree next to me. When I look back out between the leaves, the boy from 8 is looking around for me. The others join him.

"Where is she?" Dock yells at the District 8 tribute.

"She was too fast," the boy from 8 explains. "I couldn't keep up."

"So she's still alive?" Gossamer growls.

Dock howls, and says something to Glint. Glint unfurls his bladed whip and approaches the boy from 8. He whips him in the throat. The boy from District 8 turns slowly to run, and Glint whips him hard in the back of the head. He falls.

"Get his weapons," Dock says, and Thistle crouches next to the fallen tribute. A cannon fires. Thistle stands with a sickle and a knife in her hands.

"Let's clear out," Glint says, and they leave. A hovercraft appears, and takes the boy. Another district is out of the race, another tribute gone.

I sit in the tree for a while, thinking about what I just saw. Glint killed that boy without even thinking. But still, I'm glad. One less tribute to face. Only one more tribute to go, and we're down to the final eight. When the Capitol interviews the tribute's family and friends back home. And this year, maybe, my family will be part of the show.

I slip my backpack off and take out the acid medicine. I spread the medicine over the acid burns on my skin but wait to check on the arrow puncture. I'll need to take off my jacket to do that, and this branch isn't big enough for that.

When I'm done, I wrap the medicine in the parachute and tuck it in my pack. Then I eat the rest of my berries and drink the rest of my water. I have no more water, and I need it badly after running so much. The spoonful or so that was left over did close to nothing to quench my thirst. I need to find some.

I climb back down the tree and set out in search of a stream or pond or lake or anything with drinkable water. After an hour or so, I find a wide stream with a lazy current. A few small fish swim in the stream. I fill my bottle with water, add iodine, and wait for it to purify. While waiting, I take my throwing knives and toss them one by one at the fish swimming. One I lose completely, getting buried by the gravel at the bottom, but eventually, I manage to hit a fish. I pull it from the stream, and ready it for eating.

I just go and eat it raw, lighting a fire is dangerous enough, but the Careers are hunting me, and I don't want to draw them to my location. Then I take a sip of water and go to the edge of the stream. I take out my hair and dip it in the water, letting the current sweep it to the side. Sometimes, I do this in the woods at home, while Forrest teases me and tosses berries at me to catch in my mouth. I really miss not having him next to me while in the woods. I miss everybody back in 7.

I let the sun dry my hair, and I take off my jacket to clean up my arm wound. I unwrap the bandage, and drizzle a little water over it. It doesn't look too bad, actually. I rip a clean piece of the old bandage off and stuff it in the small hole the arrow made. Then I take out a roll of the bandages and wrap it around, tying it in place.

A scream slices through the air. I instinctively look around for the source, but it was distant. A cannon sounds. I wonder who it was. Was it Tellin? The unearthly sound sounded like one a young girl might make. But I don't think so. She still is from District 4, and that is a Career district.

 _Sixteen gone_ , I think as, far away, a hovercraft appears and takes the dead tribute away. Only eight left.

Now it's time for the family's interviews. I can picture a television crew heading to District 7 already. It's only five days in. Can that be right? It seems like the arena is the only place in the world right now, and I've been trapped in it for an eternity.

I pack up my gear as quickly as possible and put my jacket back on. The bright sun is overhead. I won't know who the last cannon belonged to for another six or so hours. I wish that I could see multiple parts of the arena like I can when I watch the Games at home. Then I'd already know.

I head off again until I come across a small pool near the border with spring. I decide to stay here until the rain starts again. That way, I won't have to run so far, just a couple of yards. And down a tree, of course.

After some debate, I decide to go into the spring quarter. If the rain starts while I'm sleeping, I'll be dead for sure. At least I know the flowers won't reach me up in the trees. So I cross into spring, and drink some water. I gather some roots from a plant and light a fire. It's dusk anyways. The smoke will be concealed by the blinding sun, and after that, the darkening sky. I bake the roots, and then settle in for the night.

This day seemed to go by quickly. It must have been that wandering I've done for a good portion of the day. And the stopping and waiting to see if the killers of the dead tributes will find me.

The sky goes completely dark, the the seal lights it up. The anthem sounds across the arena. The first face shown is the boy from District 8. So the second cannon wasn't Tellin. Or Fletch. I hadn't thought of him until now and I feel extremely guilty about it. The second face is… Blossom. I do feel a little sad over seeing her in the sky, because I felt like I knew. And the possibility of an alliance with her is gone. Then I realize: two more districts, 8 and 11, are no longer in the running for getting a victor. Two more districts gone in one day. Only five districts, 1, 2, 4, 7 and 9, are still in the running.

The anthem ends, and I curl up immediately. I've been moving all day, and I'm exhausted. Below me, I can hear the flowers starting up. All I do before I lose consciousness is hope, like always, that the flowers don't get me.

I have a nightmare where I won the Games. That's not the bad part though. The bad part is it's Reaping Day for the 101st Hunger Games. Delica takes the stage, and pulls Trill's name from the reaping ball. No one volunteers. Then Delica pulls Hickory's name from the ball. And nobody volunteers. I'm forced to mentor my little sister, knowing that one, or both, of them will die during these Games. Then it's the bloodbath. A monstrous boy from District 2 takes a spear and throws it through Hickory's back. Then a girl from 1 takes a knife and slits Trill's throat from behind. I wake thrashing around in the sleeping bag.

 **Thoughts? Did you guys like the mutts in the fall quarter? To be honest, I forgot Blossom was still alive, and then just killed her off this chapter. As always, please review. Let me know what you think of the story so far, give me criticism, what you guys think will happen later, stuff like that.**

 **-D9T**


	13. Alliance

I slow my breathing, convincing myself that what I saw was only a dream. But it was so real… I look around just to make sure that I'm the one in the arena, not my siblings. I take a deep breath. It's okay. Trill and Hickory are safe.

Again, I apply the medicine to the acid burns, which just look like small mosquito bites now, and drink water. I need food. Sure, I can go almost three days without food, the year my father died, we went five days with just a handful of berries to split between me, Trill, Hickory, and my mother, but the gnawing in my stomach is painful. I dig out the pack of dried fruit and eat a pear half.

Above me, I can see clumps of nuts growing. I untie the rope around me, roll up my sleeping bag, and put them both in my pack. With my small axe in my hand and my heavy one in my belt, I climb even higher into the tree. I chop down the clumps of nuts, one by one. I eat one, and it has a mild but sweet flavor. I don't need to roast them.

I leap from the tree, not bothering with climbing. The fall doesn't hurt me. I do this all the time back home. I know all the tricks on how to not break your legs while jumping.

The nuts are good and I eat almost half of them before stuffing them in my pack. Maybe, just maybe, today I can find Tellin and ally with her. She's so young, she won't last long. And the Careers will make sure she doesn't live long. I can save her. I just have to find her.

I chew some mint leaves while I walk. I don't want to eat the roots or the rest of the nuts yet. And the mint is so delicious, I chew all of the leaves I gather before taking a drink of water. I look around at where I am. Deep in the spring quarter, surrounded by daisies. If the flowers go into attack mode while I'm here, I won't escape.

I decide to stop and rest here. I pull off my backpack and go through my supplies. I have a lot, all the stuff I got from the bag after the bloodbath and the matches and knives from the boy from District 2. I drink a fourth of my water and scout the area for signs of other tributes. The only thing I find is a scrap of rope. It's not much, but it's something.

By the afternoon, I've covered every square inch in a thirty yard radius and I'm exhausted. I've finished my water, and found a tiny pool. After filling my water bottle, add the iodine, and climb a tree next to me. I hang off a branch, and look around for the little girl from District 4. If I don't find her now, I'll look tomorrow. I'm about to climb down from the tree when I see it. A small form hiding behind a tree trunk wearing a seastorm blue jacket and a green backpack. I look closer, and see two blonde braids on her head. Tellin. I found her. Now, I just need to approach her without getting killed.

I can imagine Tellin's family back in 4 weeping because I've located Tellin. They'll think I'm going to kill her. So, I look into the leaves, to the camera hidden in the tree, and whisper, "I'm not going to kill her. Don't worry." Then I climb down, and head in her direction.

In a short while, Tellin comes into my view. I hold my axes loosely, and slowly walk to Tellin. She sees me coming, stands and turns to bolt. I catch her arm before she gets too far. Her face has an expression of pure terror. She screams, trying to wrench her arm free. She has dropped the two arrows she had.

"Tellin! Stop!" I say. "I'm not going to hurt you!"

"Why should I believe you?" Tellin demands, still struggling against me. I drop my other axe.

"Look, I heard what the other Careers said about you. They're planning to not let you live very long. I can protect you." At my words, Tellin stops. She looks at me with her large, blue eyes.

"You're going to protect me?" she asks. I nod.

"Allies?" I stick my hand out. Tellin nods hesitantly, then shakes my hand.

"Allies," Tellin agrees. I smile. I have an ally.

"You hungry?" I ask. I hold out the nuts that I gathered this morning.

"Yeah, thanks," Tellin says, and takes half of the nuts. I wait for her to finish them before suggesting we move on. We walk for about half an hour before Tellin requests a rest.

"What do you have in your bag?" I ask Tellin, and she slips her pack off her shoulders. She carefully lays out her gear. A water bottle, a large coil of rope, a pair of white gloves, a first-aid kit, a dagger, a wooden bowl, a small fish wrapped in a silver parachute, and a loaf of green-tinted bread. She also has her two arrows, but no bow.

"When somebody is caught in my nets, I get them with the arrows," Tellin explains. "What do you have? Anything good?"

"Not really," I say, shifting through my bag. "Sleeping bag, plastic, pouch with roots, water bottle, iodine, bandages, matches, rope, dried fruit, my axes and some knives. Oh, and some medicine." I take the knives out of my pockets and place them on the ground. Then I take out the medicine wrapped in the parachute.

"You got that for a sponsor gift?" Tellin asks in disbelief.

"Yes," I say, suddenly self-conscious. "Why? Did you get anything?"

"Just this bread." Tellin holds up her loaf of bread. "It's from Four."

A shimmer of silver catches my attention. I look closely, and see sunlight shining on Tellin's neck. I point to it.

"What's that?" Tellin looks down, and pulls a necklace out from inside her jacket. It's a necklace, real silver. It has a silver charm on it in the shape of an anchor and something else.

"My district token," Tellin says. She fingers the white oval I was looking at earlier. The top is dark pink. "This is a tellin seashell. The shell I was named after."

I nod, but I still have questions for Tellin. She beats me to another one.

"Have you killed anybody?" Tellin's question completely catches me off guard. But I have to tell the truth.

"Two, during the bloodbath. The girl from District Three and the boy from Six," I answer. "Have you?"

"The girl from Eleven," Tellin says, taking a sip of water. So Tellin is the one who got Blossom. Probably in one of her traps.

"Okay one last question," I say, laughing a little. "Who was the girl who tried to volunteer for you?" The younger girl flinches a little, but quickly recovers.

"My older sister, Marina. She's seventeen. Very protective. I'm her only sibling, so I guess that makes sense," Tellin says.

"I have two younger siblings," I say. "I'm protective of both of them, but I would be even more protective if I only had one."

"You're lucky you live in Seven," Tellin says disdainfully. "The kids picked this year wouldn't go in at all. Back home, everybody was scared. The people who trained at the Academy couldn't volunteer. If they could, I would be safe and sound back in Four."

Well, there's nothing good to say about that. So, because it's almost night, I suggest we settle in. Tellin goes off to a bush, but I stop her.

"We need to climb a tree," I say. "The trap of the quarter is attacking flowers. They'll kill you if you stay on the ground.

"I can't climb," Tellin almost whispers.

"I'll show you," I say, and guide her to a tree. Teaching Tellin reminds me of when I taught Trill and Hickory to climb. I can see my family everywhere in this arena.

Eventually, Tellin is in the tree, and I make the platform, which I haven't bothered with for a couple days. I unroll my sleeping bag after I finished, and I get into it. Tellin's so small, she fits in with me. When the anthem starts, Tellin rests her head on my shoulder. No faces show in the sky.

When the anthem finishes, my ally curls up next to me, and falls asleep. She must trust me. I stay up and keep guard throughout the night. At what I judge to be midnight, I can hear the patter of rain starting in the summer quarter. I'm tired, so I wake Tellin and ask her to keep guard. Nobody should come, but I'd rather be safe than sorry. I fall asleep at once.

When I wake, Tellin is gone. I look around for her, and see her on the ground, holding a bird of some sort.

"Breakfast," Tellin says, holding up the bird. "Come on down and let's cook it." I get out of the sleeping bag, put it in my pack, and toss the branches down. Then I climb down the tree.

"What about your fish?" I ask as I hit the ground. "Won't it go bad?"

"Oh," Tellin says sheepishly. "I ate it last night during guard duty. I hope you don't mind."

"Not really," I say, shrugging. "Here, I have some roots we can eat with this." I take out the roots and give Tellin the matches. "I'll guard while you cook." She nods, and I quickly fashion twigs into a neat arrangement to make the fire. Tellin skewers the bird with one of her arrows and then sets the fire. I turn away, my axes in hand, waiting for other tributes. But nobody comes. I throw one of my axes into a tree, mainly because I've been throwing the knives a lot lately, and throwing axes takes muscle.

When Tellin finishes cooking the bird, she slices it in half so that we can each have a piece, and I split the roots. We put out the fire, then eat the meat and roots. The meat is delicious, and Tellin cooked it just right. I'm almost disappointed when I finish, leaving my hands greasy and a pile of bones next to me. I eat my roots, and then wash it all down with water. This is the first full meal I've had since entering the arena.

"So what now?" Tellin asks when she finishes. She brushes her fingers over her braids. They're very intricate. I can't stop myself when I speak.

"How did you do your hair?" I blurt out. Tellin looks surprised, but answers anyways.

"They're called fishtails," Tellin explains. "Kind of a joke. You know, with me being from the fishing district and all. You're lucky that there isn't a hairstyle named after trees."

"You know, Seven is more than just trees," I say. "We make paper, too."

"Fair enough," Tellin says. "You're a lumberjack, right? You said something like that in your interview."

"Yeah, that's where I get my axe skills," I say, pointing to my axes next to me. "Why?"

"Just wondering," Tellin says. "Let's move."

We walk for a long time. We don't talk much. I wonder if Tellin is thinking about her sister, Marina. After about an hour of silence, I finally say, "Let's look for some food." Tellin agrees, and practically runs to the river near us. She spears a fish immediately.

"I used to live on the coast," Tellin explains, and she gathers sticks to cook the fish. "I wasn't allowed on the boats because I was too young, but I still caught fish. I can also collect clams and mussels."

"What?" I say, totally confused. I know that District 4 is located by the ocean, but most of those words are foreign to me. Tellin picks up on my confusion and smiles. "Never mind."

I gather berries while Tellin cooks the fish. Then we share it and the berries. I dig around in my bag to get my water, but come up with leaves in my hand. They're the dandelion leaves I gathered days ago. "These will go nicely with the berries," I say, laying them out. Tellin takes a couple and stuffs them in her mouth.

After we finish, we settle in for the night. This day seemed to flash by. Having another person with me must have better side effects than I originally thought. I get Tellin safely in a tree, then make the platform. I take out the sleeping bag and we both snuggle in.

The seal lights up the sky, the anthem sounds. There are no faces. I wonder if there will be tomorrow.

As if reading my thoughts, Tellin says, "Okay, we both know we can't keep this alliance forever. We can't both win. So when one of us—" she pauses, swallowing hard, "—dies, I say we take the other's supplies. To keep us going longer and to help the other win. Deal?"

I look at this girl, three years younger than me, but braver than me. She's brave enough to talk about the possibility of one of us dying, possibly very soon. But I nod, because if I lose, and Fletch does too, I want Tellin to win, and my surplus of simple supplies will keep her alive.

Fletch. I haven't thought about him in a while. I wonder how he's doing. The last time I saw him was when he killed the boy from District 2, Thistle's district partner. He's still alive, which means only three districts have both of their tributes left. District 1, District 4 and District 7.

"Okay," Tellin says to my answer. Then she falls asleep, and I'm too tired to stay awake to keep watch. I drift off next to her.

 **Surprise update! I love half days of school! :)**

 **Okay, Mimosa has an ally! I know I mentioned this before, but still tell me what you think of Tellin. Do you like her? Do you not? And Tellin got a kill! Blossom was killed by her. Did you expect the 12-year-old Career to get a kill or not? As always, please review. They really help me make my stories better for you guys.**


	14. Arrows and Axes

Eight days. As soon as I wake, the first thing I think is that we've been in the arena for eight days. Eight days and eight tributes left. I wonder if anybody's going to die today. I have a feeling it will happen.

Tellin is still asleep. I slip out of the sleeping bag, and put my backpack on. I climb as high as I dare into the tree. I just want to escape the Games for a few minutes. I stand on a branch that bends slightly under me, and let the sun warm me. Even with my jacket, I was cool last night, and still am now.

I sit on the branch, and look at the arrow wound. I completely forgot about it yesterday, and it's throbbing. I put some of the medicine on it, and the pain subsides. I change the bandage and hear a beeping noise. A silver parachute is drifting toward me. I jump up, and snatch it from the air. Whose is it? Tellin's or mine? I don't open it yet. Instead, I climb back down to the platform where Tellin has just woken.

"We got something," I say, holding up the parachute. The smaller girl looks longingly at it.

"I wonder what it is," she says. "You open it." And I do. What I find is two small loaves of bread, one fish shaped and the other the circular, smoky and pine-smelling loaf from 7. I hand the fish shaped loaf to Tellin, and see a note underneath. I pick it up. It says:

 _To Mimosa: Thank you for allying with Tellin. She's so young, and I thought once the Careers cut her, I wouldn't be able to protect her anymore. Thank you very much. -Vivia Salt, District 4 Mentor_

"What does it say?" Tellin asks through a mouthful of bread. I hand her the note, then rip into my loaf. It tastes good, just like the kind from the bakery in the square. Of course, I've only had it from there a couple times and this bread probably came from there. I leave half of my bread over, then drink the rest of my water.

I suggest we head down. Tellin doesn't argue, as she needs water too and there's a river next to us. So we climb down, and I give Tellin my water bottle to fill and the iodine while I disassemble the platform. The feeling that somebody will die today doesn't leave me, and images swarm my mind. I see myself with a trident in my chest, an arrow in my neck, strangled with cloudy eyes, a knife dragged across my throat. Then little Tellin speared through, an axe in her stomach, a ninja star impaling her heart. I squeeze my eyes shut and push the images away. Something will happen today. I just know it.

When I finally finish, Tellin has both bottles filled and in the process of purifying. I put my bottle in my bag, then Tellin and I set off. I hold both my axes tightly, and Tellin grips her arrows the same way. She breathes heavily and shakily.

"You okay?" I ask her, and she barely can nod before she bursts into tears. I take her into my arms, and she sobs.

"I don't want to die, Mimosa," she says. "I'm only twelve. I'm the youngest left. I can't fight the older kids like you can."

"You'll be fine, Tellin," I say soothingly. I stroke her hair, just like I would to Trill or Hickory. I think of myself as Tellin's sister, protecting her from everything in the arena.

It takes Tellin about twenty minutes to cry herself out. By then, I'm wide awake and tense, waiting for someone to come along and attack us. If it was the Careers, we would both be dead for sure. I don't wait when I ask Tellin, "You ready to keep moving?" I need to get away from here.

"Yeah, let's go," she replies. I pretend to not notice her still wiping tears away.

My ally trails behind me while we walk. I glance back occasionally to see if she's still there. Something happened to her today. The only front she puts up is a fierce little girl, fighting to get back to her district. But today, she showed the side of a scared girl, wishing not to get killed in the place twenty three people will lose their lives.

"Let's take a rest," Tellin suggests. She looks like a determined person now, like when I met her. I sit on the ground next to Tellin and drink some water.

"Who's left?" Tellin asks. I think for a moment.

"Glint and Gossamer. Thistle. You and Dock. Me and Fletch. And Quinoa," I say.

"Quinoa? Who's that?" Tellin asks.

"The girl from District Nine," I respond. "Have you seen her at all?"

"Once, when I was with the Careers." Tellin shudders a little. "We found her after the bloodbath. We almost killed her, but she got away."

We sit in silence after that. Only when I suggest we start walking again the sound resumes. Tellin seems to have recovered completely from her breakdown this morning. She walks next to me, sometimes running ahead, and fiddles with a scrap of rope in her hands. Her arrows are hanging from her belt.

"So only five districts are left, huh?" Tellin says. "I guess we helped with that. I knocked out Eleven and you helped with Three and Six." I don't know why I find this funny, but I do. I laugh a little, then hear strange little noises. A rustle of a leaf, a whoosh of air, and a small huff of breath. My axes fall from my hands. I turn around, and see Tellin, still standing, but with an arrow in her stomach.

 **Tellin's shot! Who shot her? Will she die?**

 **Please review everybody. I haven't gotten any since Chapter 2. I just want to know what you all think.**


	15. Time to Say Goodbye

I whirl back around a scoop down to grab my axes. Lucky I did, because another arrow flew past, and judging by where it went, it would have hit me in the head.

There's only one person in the arena with a bow, only one who can shoot like that. If she's here, then the others must be close. I search the trees, and see a figure wearing the maroon jacket of District 2. I whip one of my axes at the branch Thistle is perched on, and there's the awful sound of an impact. Thistle falls, and a cannon sounds. I turn around to Tellin, and see her on the ground, but still weakly grasping at the arrow inside her. The cannon must have been Thistle's.

I kneel beside Tellin, gently pulling the arrow out. Her teal jacket is stained red with blood. I unzip Tellin's jacket, see just where the arrow hit. In the soft spot between the two parts of the end of her rib cage. I blink away tears. I don't want Tellin to see them. But she must know what I do: She's going to die. This is an injury nobody can survive.

Tellin looks up at me, a single tear trickling down her cheek. I try to staunch my own, but it doesn't work too well. My vision becomes blurry, and then Tellin grips my hand. Her face is pale.

"Mimosa, win," Tellin says. "You have to. Please."

"I will," I promise. "Don't worry."

Tellin smiles, then her hand drifts to the wound. She lifts her fingers and stares at her blood.

"Tell Marina," Tellin starts, then takes a shuddering breath. "Tell her I'm sorry. That I couldn't come back." Her eyes drift shut.

"Okay, Tellin," I whisper. "I'll miss you." Tellin doesn't respond. I stroke her hair until her cannon fires. And then I cry. I sit there next to Tellin and silently mourn for her. I imagine the same thing happening in her own home.

Just this morning, Tellin told me she didn't want to die. She was twelve. Twelve! That's way too young to die.

I gently turn Tellin on her side and take her pack. I remember her telling me last night to take it when she died. I leave her own arrows with her. I don't have any use for them, as I'm terrible with a bow. Then I walk to Thistle. I retrieve my axe and flip her over. I take her small bag, too. Then I realize multiple things at once.

First: District 2 is out of the race.

Second: Thistle was only fourteen and I killed her.

Third: The only districts with both their tributes left are 1 and 7.

Fourth: Now I'm the youngest one left. Quinoa, Dock and Fletch are eighteen, Glint is seventeen, and Gossamer is sixteen. And I'm fifteen.

Fifth: Only six of us left.

I turn back to my ally. She looks so small right now. I zip her jacket back up, and say, "Bye Tellin." Then I walk away.

A bird whistles. I turn around, and see the hovercraft taking Thistle away. Then another appears and lifts Tellin into the air. Then it vanishes and she's gone.

I stop walking to go through Tellin's and Thistle's bags. Tellin's has her rope, a dagger, white gloves, half of her bread from the parachute, her water bottle, a wooden bowl and a first aid kit. I stick the first aid kit in my own bag, along with the bowl, and the rope. I put the gloves in my pocket and the dagger in my belt. I leave the water under a bush.

Then I open Thistle's bag. There's surprisingly little for her being a Career. A bunched-up parachute with arrowheads in it, an extra bowstring, a pack of crackers and a half full water bottle. I take only the crackers. I hide the arrowheads and bowstring and water under a thick bush. Then I zip Thistle's bag into Tellin's and put them in my own. I drink some of my water before I head off.

Walking by myself feels so much more different now. I'm used to walking with Tellin, but I can't do that now because she's dead.

I think about what Tellin last said to me. " _Tell Marina… Tell her I'm sorry._ " Tellin is sorry that she died. I'm sorry I couldn't save her. She was too young to go like that.

But she believed I could win. I'm not going to let her down. But I also want the Capitol to remember the little girl named Tellin that they killed. And so I have to win and make everybody remember me.

It's noon when I pull myself into a tree. I don't feel like walking anymore. I unzip my bag, and go through what I have again. I take out Tellin's bread and take a bite. It's salty, but good. I finish it then drink some water. Then I eat the rest of my District 7 bread. I barely ate anything this morning, and already hunger is affecting me. Also the grief of losing my ally has no doubt contributed.

I keep my axes in my hands, in case anybody comes by. Then I remember there are only six left. Gossamer, Glint, Dock, Fletch, me, and Quinoa. I wonder about Fletch. I haven't seen him since the second day. He's still alive, I know that much. The two cannons today were Thistle's and Tellin's. I wonder if he thinks one of them was mine. If he does, a surprise he'll get when my face doesn't show tonight.

Then I wonder about Quinoa. I didn't even see her during the bloodbath, and still haven't. She must be in hiding. But still, it's been a long time since a District 9 tribute made it this far. Everybody back in 9 must be happy for her.

I think back to my time in the Capitol. I thought that I wouldn't last very long then. The final six… that's much better than I originally thought I would do. I'm sure the Capitol is shocked, too. My odds probably weren't so great at the start, but I'm sure they're better now. Hopefully.

I sit motionless in this tree until the sun begins to set. By then, I'm out of water, and have only the crackers and some berries left for food. I climb down the tree, and create the platform. I'll fill my water in the morning. I take out my sleeping bag and unroll it. Just as I'm sliding inside, the anthem begins and the seal materializes in the sky. They show Thistle, then Tellin. That's it.

I lay awake, long enough to hear the flowers starting underneath me. Then I curl up in the sleeping bag, which feels too large without Tellin in with me. But eventually, I fall asleep.

 **Six left! Time to say goodbye to Tellin and Thistle, sadly. And the first Career district gone is 2!**


	16. The Thief

**If anybody wants to submit to an SYOT, Oli2Fab4u and MessyModgePodge have one going and they need more tributes! If you're interested, submit!**

I wake with a feeling of happiness. The dream about Tellin showing me around District 4 is the best one I've had in a long time. But soon the feeling vanishes, making me feel as lonely as ever.

I claw through my bag and come out with all my berries. I eat them all, then wiggle out of my sleeping bag. I shove it in my backpack, toss down all the branches, and climb down the tree. I don't bother dragging them anywhere. Everybody knows who's left and what they can do.

I wonder about the Careers with only three members now. Gossamer, Glint, and Dock. Ninja stars, bladed whip, trident. They're a deadly trio, but all of us in the arena are just as lethal.

I walk without a sense of direction, just walking. I look for some kind of water source, because it's been awhile since I've drank anything, and I'm feeling dehydrated. But the only thing I find is a pond-sized hole with a puddle at the bottom. The water is dirty and has brown swirls in it. Sighing, I head further into the woods.

After a few hours, I give up, and plop down on the ground. I eat a couple of crackers, and I only have a few left. It will take awhile, but I'll starve to death if I can't find any food soon. And, sooner, I'll dehydrate to death.

Slipping my backpack off, I grab my two axes and put my water bottle in my pocket and set off to hunt. The bag is heavy with all the supplies in it, so I hide it well by draping it across a tree branch. Then I set off to hunt.

I miss the woods back in 7. I miss Forrest. Being with him in the woods is always better than being alone. But I feel like I'm home, now, without the heavy bag and my axes. After a couple minutes, I finally come across a stream with some fish in it. I fill my bottle before whipping out the dagger and stabbing a fish.

I walk around for a few more minutes, but I don't find anything else. So I head back to where my bag is. As I near the tree, I hear a rustling noise.

Panic shoots through me. Who is that? At this point, the only person I want to come across is Fletch because I know he won't kill me. Other tributes would without blinking an eye. I turn, and scamper up the tree next to me, and peer into the leaves of the tree my backpack is in. I spot my bag, and the tribute next to it. She's wearing the bottle green of District 9. Quinoa. What's she up to? I watch, silently, as she rifles through my supplies. She takes a coil of rope, and stuffs it in her own bag.

Quinoa is stealing my supplies! How long has she been here? I have no clue. But everything in that bag contributes to my survival, and if she takes it, then she'll live while I die. I need to make it home.

I place my axes and the fish down on a branch, and take out one of the throwing knives. Gripping the tree for support, I lob it at her. It just misses her arm, and sticks in the trunk. Quinoa whips her head side to side, then leaps from the tree. She's fast. After about ten seconds, she's out of view.

I leap to where my bag is, and see what was left. The iodine, the sleeping bag, a roll of bandages, the plastic, the two backpacks, the parachute, the bowl and a coil of rope. That's it. Plus the water bottle, the dagger, the knives, the axes, the gloves and the fish. It's all I have now. Quinoa came out with a lot of my supplies. But I'm thankful she left the iodine and sleeping bag.

Speaking of the sleeping bag, the sun is setting, even though the sun was high in the sky half an hour ago. The Gamemakers must want the Games to go faster, the pace to quicken. I climb a tree to settle in for the night. I roll out the sleeping bag, wiggle into it, and take out my water and the fish. Absolutely starving, I eat the entire fish, then wash it down with half of the water. I'm still hungry, but I have nothing else to eat.

The anthem begins, and my eyes travel to the sky. There are no faces; nobody died today. I wonder who will be next.

When the anthem ends, I lay awake thinking for a moment. Nine days in. Only nine days and eighteen tributes are gone. Six left. I can't believe it. The Games seem to go by much faster when you're in them than when you're watching them. I wonder why.

I rub my eyes, and snuggle down in the sleeping bag. I'm not really tired, just famished. I drink some more water, then have an awful thought. What if they're taking all the food and water from the arena to starve some of us to death? I think back to the pond-sized hole I found earlier. The puddle at the bottom. It's evidence for my theory, at least.

The idea scares me. The Careers will be set for food and water. Quinoa has my crackers and whatever else she had before, and Fletch...I have no clue about him. But I have practically nothing. What if the Gamemakers want to drag us to a feast? With some of us weak from hunger, it will guarantee a death or two.

Now, I'm trembling. I never have been so scared about the Games before. Not when I volunteered for Trill, not when the boy from 12 almost killed me, not when the Careers trapped me in the tree, not even when Thistle almost shot me in the head. But the idea of having the remaining tributes gathered together to fight each other scares me. I burrow into the sleeping bag so the cameras can't get a shot of me. I don't want anyone to see me like this.

I need to sleep now. My eyes drift shut, and somehow, I find sleep.


	17. The Water

**Sorry it took me so long to update! I had tons of essays due this week, and I had no time to update. Sorry for the wait!**

When I wake, the flowers are writhing around the tree I'm in. I'm trapped. My breathing turns panicky. How long will I be stuck in this tree? My stomach is growling. I hope not long. I need to find something to eat. I wish I didn't eat that whole fish yesterday.

Slowly, I ease myself out of the sleeping bag, roll it up, and place it in my backpack. I hold my axes with one hand as I climb higher into the tree. As I reach the top, I see I'm not too far away from the Careers' base. I spot Gossamer talking with Glint, and Dock off the the side. Well, as long as I'm up here, I may as well watch the Careers.

But I don't have the chance for long. They all grab a weapon, and head off to the winter quarter. I climb back down, and while doing that, I come across bunches of nuts. I can barely control myself as I chop them down, as many as I can hold. Then, I sit on a branch eating them until my stomach is halfway filled. I save the rest of the nuts, and drink some water.

I feel much better now. With my food supply back, I go through my bag, trying to see what exactly Quinoa stole. The matches, the acid burn medicine, the crackers, the leather pouch, a coil of rope, a roll of bandages, the first-aid kit. Important stuff. Maybe Willow could send me some of this stuff back. But I doubt it. People will probably think that I will get it stolen and their money will be wasted on another tribute. I wish now that I kept my bag with me.

After about another two hours, the flowers finally stop. I jump from the tree, and set off. I hope the Careers don't find me.

I think I can win the Games now. There are only five other tributes in the arena, and if it came down to it, I could take out any one of them. Except one. Fletch. I would never kill Fletch, even if we were the final two. I remember in the Capitol, how he said he wanted me to come out the victor. I think I can, Fletch.

A bush dotted with fat blackberries enters my vision. I rush to the bush, grateful for it. I dig the plastic out of my bag, and begin harvesting berries. I imagine being a citizen of District 11 for a moment, harvesting these berries for a living, in order to get money home to feed Trill and Hickory and my mother.

When I finally finish, the plastic is jam-packed and the bush is empty. I cut off a piece of rope, and tie it around the top, making a pouch for the berries. I thread the extra rope from the top around my belt and tie it there. There. Now I have more than enough food.

Or maybe not. The day is brutally hot, so I shed my jacket and tie it around my waist. Thankfully, the knives stay in. I begin to just mindlessly eat the blackberries, which are nice and juicy. I cross the border into the summer quarter, where the leaves are grass are still smoldering a bit from the acid rain. I drain my water, then hunt around for another water source.

So hot. I'm sweating buckets, and the morning haze has barely burned away. It's going to be hotter than usual today. Perhaps the Gamemakers want us to be groggy from the heat, then drive us together. Sometimes, I wish I didn't have such a good imagination. But a lifetime of watching the Hunger Games will give anybody one.

I stop walking for a rest. I check on my berry stock. I just ate about a quarter of it. No more today, I tell myself. I walk to the shade of a tree, and check on my wounds, which I haven't checked in a while. The acid burns are just small red dots. I guess the medicine did it's job. And the arrow wound is still a little sore, but it has scabbed over. I still wrap a fresh bandage over it, in case exertion makes it bleed again. Overall, pretty good.

It's noon. The woods around me is quiet, which is good. No tributes are near me, at least. Is it possible that only two days ago Tellin and Thistle died? I count the days of the Games on my fingertips. Day one, twelve tributes gone. Day two, two more. Day five, another two. And day eight, another two. Yes, only two days ago. There have been quite the spaces between tribute deaths, also. When will the next go? Who will be the next?

Sitting in the shade, my axes in hand, food… I haven't been so relaxed since the Games started. I think back for a moment, to past Hunger Games. I remember two years ago, where the girl from 7 was only twelve, and the boy was also twelve. I remember how they both died. The boy was taken out first in the bloodbath, speared and literally flung aside by a brutal girl from 4. The girl almost escaped, but the boy from 5 had dragged her back into the fight and cut her throat.

I shudder. The Games are horrible.

I stand up and begin walking again. After a little while, I see a pond. I fill my bottle, add iodine, and wait for it to purify. My whole daily routine in the arena is exhausting. I wonder how much longer the Gamemakers want the Games to continue. How much longer I'll be in them.

Walking. It's all I ever do now. Walk either closer to the tributes who want me dead or away from them. I wish I still had my ally. I miss little Tellin. I promised her I would win, and deliver a message to her sister. But I also promised Trill I would win, and Hickory, and my mother, and even Fletch, because he said he had nobody to go back home to. Lots of people are riding on my ability to keep a promise.

I hear a sharp _crack_ , and look up, just in time to see a huge tree toppling over. And judging by it's trajectory, it's going to hit me. Quickly, scramble out of the way. The tree hits the ground by my side, barely missing me. More cracks sound, and I take off.

So, this is what the Gamemakers had planned for today. I weave, trying to dodge the falling trees. I can't see what's making them fall until I see the water rushing between the trunks. A new fear surges through me. I can't swim. I can only hope my speed will save me.

Through the rushing of water, the cracks and impacts of trees falling, and the sound of my feet slamming into the ground, I hear footsteps. I risk a quick glance to my right, and see several people running. The Careers.

I bend off to the left, away from the Careers. We're being herded together. All of the remaining tributes.

A tree lands near me, and I'm splashed with water. I turn around, and see the liquid has picked up it's pace. The very edge is at my heels, where it is not very deep. But further in, the water is very deep. I can't help myself. I scream.

A tree, this one tall and thick and sturdy, collapses, and hits my back. I fall, and the water is around me immediately, and rising fast. I drag myself to my feet, and run with all the strength I have left, water splashing at my ankles. Risking a quick glance behind me, I see gallons of the stuff. A wave had begun to take form. Fast, faster than any natural thing can do, the wave forms, crests, and falls around me.

I am completely submerged in water, and sinking fast.

 **I hope this chapter made up for the time without updates. They are going to be more spaced out now because after this, I only have one more chapter already written. Starting after 18, the updates will probably be once a week.**


	18. All Together

The current carries me. I desperately paddle upwards, where I can see the top of the water. When my head breaks the surface, I take in deep gulps of air, glad for it. I try to grab a tree branch so I can climb above the waterline, but they all fall. They all threaten to crush me.

I use my axes as paddles to propel myself forward. Or, at least keep my head above the water. I'm gasping for air, trying to dodge trees as they topple. Then I see where the Gamemakers are taking us. The Cornucopia.

I lunge forward, into the clearing, out of the water. There are three other tributes already there. Quinoa, Glint, Dock. The two Careers are double-teaming Quinoa, and she's barely holding them off. She's bleeding from several new injuries. I reach into one of my pockets, and take out a throwing knife. I whip it at Dock, and it sticks in his arm. He turns to look at me.

"I got Seven, Glint," I hear Dock say. Glint just nods.

Dock stalks over to me, a menacing look on his face. He is swinging one of his tridents, and another is strapped to his back. But I know I can hold him off.

Dock thrusts his trident at me. I catch it between two prongs with my axe, and yank down. Before Dock can regain his footing, I slash my axe across his bicep.

Then an awful pain is in my side. I look down quickly, just as another ninja star impales me. I scream, and Dock kicks me to the ground. He stabs downwards, and I dodge. Gossamer appears next to him, smirking.

"Finally caught your prey, Dock?" Gossamer asks, as I slowly try to escape.

"I'm nobody's prey," I say. Gossamer's face contorts, and she goes to throw a ninja star at me. I curl up, waiting for death, for my last moments. When it doesn't come, I look up, and Gossamer screams. Fletch is there, looking powerful and well-fed. He has Gossamer's arm in his grasp. He's fighting Dock off with the other hand.

Knowing if I don't help, Fletch will die, I pull out the ninja stars and get Dock's attention. He jabs at me, and I knock his trident out of his hand. I may be small and thin, but I'm just as strong as Dock. His trident flies out of his hand. He looks shocked, and fumbles to get the one strapped to his back. I kick his legs, knocking him down, and take off. I know it's an awful thing to do to Fletch, who is still fighting Gossamer, but I don't want my face to shine in the sky tonight.

I don't know how long I run for, just that I'm winded and freezing when I stop. I'm still soaked from the water, and the air is cooling rapidly. I shiver.

My hand clamps down on my side, where the ninja star wounds are. They're bleeding heavily. I rummage through my bag, trying to find the bandages. Sloppily, I wrap a bandage around my middle. Hopefully I don't bleed to death in my sleep.

I climb a tree next to me before I notice that I'm in the fall section. I hang my dripping jacket on a branch next to me. It's still sopping wet, and I don't want to get my sleeping bag wet because of it.

Shivering, I squirm into the sleeping bag, and eat a couple of berries. Just to get some strength back in my body. I drink all my water and wait for any cannons. There are none. I watch as the sun slowly sinks, turning the sky gold. The golden color matches the color of the leaves on the trees. Then the gold darkens to purple, which dissipates to black. Dots of silver shine against the background of black. If only it wasn't so cold, I would enjoy it.

The anthem plays, the seal appears, but no faces show. The audience will be restless, hungry for a death. Somebody's going to die tomorrow, I can feel it. But last time I got that feeling, Tellin's face was shown in the sky….

I burrow down in the sleeping bag. The shivering hasn't stopped. I pull the top of the bag over my head, trying to block the wind. It isn't the most comfortable thing in the world, but the arena is designed to make us uncomfortable. Nothing is comfortable in my world anymore. Somehow, I drift off to sleep.

 **Sorry this his is such a short chapter! I didn't feel like I could do anything else with this (and also I just didn't have the motivation). Tell me what you think. I'll try to get Ch.19 up in a couple hours or so to make up for this.**


	19. Another One Bites The Dust

When I wake up, two things register. One, my jacket is perfectly dry, and warmed by the rising sun. I quickly slip into it. The second is that there is a silver parachute tangled is the leaves above my head. I wiggle out of my sleeping bag and snatch it free. I break open the pod attached, and inside is a fleecy blanket.

"Thank you," I whisper, hoping that my sponsor is listening. I put the blanket in my bag, and take out my water. Drink the last mouthful. The water disappears so quickly. So does the food. And the tributes. Six of us left. I wonder who will be next.

 _It doesn't really matter, just as long as it isn't you, Mimosa_. My hand travels to my pocket, where Trill's ring sits. I miss her so much. And Hickory and my mother and Forrest. All of them. I bring the ring up to my eyes, and inspect it. It really doesn't look any different than it did when I left District 7. I put it on my finger and get ready for the day. Roll up my sleeping bag and put it in my pack. Then I climb out of the tree and head off.

It's really hot again today. I shrug off my jacket, and tie it around my waist. I eat a few blackberries, pushing them to the roof of my mouth to squeeze out the juice. It helps a little with my growing thirst, but I need water.

After another hour, I'm nearing the border into the winter quarter. Maybe it will be cooler there. And I can melt the snow into water.

I stand in the winter quarter for a minute or two. It's just as hot. Sighing, I dig out my water bottle, and squat to shovel snow in. But as soon as I touch the snow, excruciating pain shoots through my finger. Choking back a scream, I look at my fingers. The tips to the second knuckle of my middle three fingers are frost-covered. My eyes widen; I can feel my face go pale.

 _Don't let it show. Don't let them know you're scared. It will lose you sponsors, and you need to get back home_. I take a deep breath, and keep moving. Then look behind me. I'm leaving a trail of footprints. It's like I'm telling the Careers "here I am! Come and get me!" I head back to the fall quarter as fast as I can.

I've been in the arena for almost two weeks. Away from home for almost a whole month. I can't believe that. It seems like yesterday I was standing in square of District 7, waiting for the names to be read. Eleven days in, eighteen tributes gone, five have to go until I can go home. Including Fletch.

A thought hits me, and I stop in my tracks. What if Fletch and I both make it to the final two? I wouldn't ever kill him, and he said he wanted me to win. Either we would have to kill each other, or the Gamemakers would.

I cradle my frosted fingers to my chest, my axes in my belt. Only one of my many injuries in these Hunger Games.

Out of nowhere, I collapse to my knees, and crawl to a tree. Tears are streaming down my cheeks.

"I want to go home," I whisper to myself. I wipe off my tears. But I really do want to go home. The Hunger Games are wrong. But I need to win them. I need to get back home to Trill and Hickory and my mother and Forrest and everybody else. I push myself to my feet and keep moving.

The heat gets turned up progressively throughout the day, and by noon, I'm panting, starving because I've eaten all my food, and dehydrating. All the water seems to have just disappeared. I hope it's not gone for good. If it is, it's goodbye Mimosa Oakley.

The air around me begins to dampen, like it's going to rain. Panic sets in. I know what this rain is like. It's not good, and I'm not getting caught in it again. I run to the spring quarter, more winded and hot than ever.

The air seems to stand still as the acid rain begins. Where's the wind? I need something to break this heat. I climb a tree next to me, where I roost for a few hours. Nothing happens. I just sit, check on my wounds, and cope with the thirst and hunger. Dusk is setting in when the screaming begins.

My head whips to the side, where the acid rain is still falling. Somebody's in there. Who? Quinoa? Fletch? Hopefully it's the Careers.

Another scream, then "I got you, Gossamer!" It is the Careers. And they're getting closer.

I stand up on my branch, hiding behind the trunk, peeking around it. There's the sound of an impact, and Gossamer's screaming again, this time "Glint! _Glint_!"

Glint yells in pain. Then Dock's voice:

"Come on, Gossamer!" he yells.

I wait, jumpy, for something to happen. Did Gossamer and Dock leave Glint behind? Did they leave their ally to die in acid? I close my eyes, take a deep breath, then open them back up. Beneath me, two figures emerge, both looking awful. Acid burns spotting their skin, hair greasy and damaged by the acid, one being restrained by the other.

Gossamer struggles against Dock. "Glint!" she hollers into the trees. A pained yell is her response.

"He's dying, Gossamer," Dock says. "If you go back in, you're gonna die, too."

"But he's still alive!" Gossamer shouts at Dock, twisting out of his grip. She pulls up the hood of her jacket, and starts to run into the rain.

I look at Gossamer is astonishment. Is she really willing to sacrifice herself to save her district partner? Or is there something else between them?

But Gossamer is too late. Glint's cannon goes off, and she curls into Dock, sobbing.

 **Five left! Sadly, we lost Glint. Let me know what you think about Gossamer's reaction. Is there something between them? Maybe I'll do a one-shot on Gossamer's life sometime to see the truth...**


	20. Fletch

**Alright, a couple things before I start. This chapter is going to be in Fletch's POV, because I've pretty much been ignoring him and he deserves some love. Second, there's an SYOT by FlyingHamburgerRider that I've submitted to and still needs more tributes. If you're interested in submitting, the story is under my favorite stories tab in my profile. Enjoy Chapter 20!**

I jump at the sound of the cannon. There were only five other tributes in the arena when it sounded. Which one was it? I desperately hope it's not Mimosa. I'm not prepared to see her face in the sky.

I hold my spear defensively, waiting tense and on edge for somebody to pop out and attack me. Then I sigh and lower the spear. The Games have changed me in ways I could never imagine. I can see my family—my mother and little sister Piper—and their reaction to my evolution. It's not good. Little Piper, clinging to life because of her sickness, and watching her big brother become a murderer. It's not a pleasant image.

I climb the bare tree next to me, looking down at my footprints in the snow. I hate leaving such an easy trail to follow, but I'll have to roll with it.

Above me, the seal appears and the anthem starts. I brace myself, just in case Mimosa died. Silently, I go through the remaining tributes in my head. Both from 1, the boy from 4, me and Mimosa, and the girl from 9. One of them is dead.

I'm shocked when the face of the boy from 1 appears. He seemed so strong, so able to win these. Of course, not as much as the 4 boy, but pretty close.

That's it for tonight. I have six hours, tops, to sleep tonight. Then the snow will start and I'll freeze to death. Literally. I'll become an ice statue.

I arrange myself into a relatively comfortable position on the branch. It sticks up at a diagonal from the trunk, so I have one foot bracing myself against the trunk, and the other is dangling in open air. I picture my district partner, somewhere in this arena, in another tree, trying to find sleep. Mimosa is only fifteen. I remember when I told her my cousin, Arbol, was fifteen, too. I had said he wasn't old enough to be a tribute. Neither is Mimosa.

I fall asleep.

When I wake, the sky has clouded over a soft gray color, all across the arena. The air is cold. Quickly, I pack up my things and climb down from the tree.

About ten minutes into my hike, I hear a twig snap and a gasp. I look straight up, and see the girl from 9 up in a tree, looking shocked then scared to see me. She starts to scramble up higher, but I get an idea.

"Wait!" I call to her. "I'm not going to hurt you! I just want to talk!"

"Yeah right!" the girl calls down. He voice is shaky. I sigh, and start to climb. In no time, I reach her.

"I want to form an alliance," I say. The girl looks at me.

"Why this late?" she asks. "There are only five left."

"We'll be stronger together," I reason with her. "The Careers are down to two members. If we can find Mimosa, we'll all be fine if they attack." The 9 girl looks like she's about to argue, but I continue, "Or, we could go alone, and our chances of surviving a Career attack go down."

The girl from District 9 looks stuck. I trapped her. Then she sticks out her hand. "Okay," she says as I shake. "I'm Quinoa."

"Fletch," I say. We climb down and head off.

"What's it like in Seven?" Quinoa asks me, holding a knife tightly.

"There are lots of trees everywhere," I say. "Even little saplings grow in cracks on the roads. I like it. But, of course, I've lived with it for eighteen years, so I guess I just got used to it."

"Sounds nice," Quinoa says. "Nine is just wheat everywhere. Do you have any siblings?"

"What's with all the questions?" I ask. Quinoa shrugs.

"I'm a curious person."

"Okay, I have a little sister named Piper. She has this sickness and nobody knows what it is. She's dying. Eleven years old, and my little sister is dying." There's a lump in my throat that I swallow after three tries.

"I'm sorry, Fletch," Quinoa says. "You didn't have to tell me if you didn't want to." I nod.

"It's fine. I needed to tell somebody. Even Mimosa didn't know." That makes me shudder. The girl from my home didn't even know that Piper is dying, yet I'll tell a girl from District 9.

What's wrong with me?

 **How did you all like Fletch? I decided to have a little insight to his life in here. Poor little Piper. And he allied with Quinoa!**

 **As always, reviews are appreciated. The updates are going to dramatically slow down after this. Once a week every week (hopefully).**


	21. The Mentors

**I have not given up on this! School has just been pretty busy lately. I've had tons of homework, sports games, and sports tryouts last weekend, so I have had ZERO time to write. Unfortunately, we're not seeing Mimosa much this chapter, either. As you can tell from the name of the chapter, we're seeing the mentors! Enjoy:**

 **Willow Tresses, District 7 Mentor**

"Please," Willow said for about the millionth time to the pink-haired woman. "She needs it." The Capitol woman looked at the screen with Mimosa sitting in the tree, sweating and looking extremely dehydrated.

 _Please say yes,_ Willow thought. _All she needs is a quart. Then I can send her note saying where to find the last water source left in the arena._

"I don't know," the Capitol woman said again. "What if she gets it stolen?" Willow huffed quietly. She'd heard this argument thousands of times, too. She glanced over to Milpa Omri, the mentor for Quinoa. Willow was never a big fan of her's but now her tribute's actions were losing sponsors for Mimosa.

"She won't, I promise," Willow said, turning her attention back to the woman.

"Okay," the woman said hestitantly, then bought a jar of water. She handed it to Willow, who eagerly took it.

"Thank you!" Willow exclaimed. She rushed to the Mentor's Section of the Games Headquarters. There she took a slip of paper, grabbed a pen, and scribbled on the paper:

 _Here's some water. I can't guarantee I'll be able to get you anything else. The only water source left in the arena is pretty far away from you, where the summer quarter meets the fall at the end of the arena. Good luck. -Willow_

Willow put Mimosa's gift into a pod, tied a parachute on it, and put it in the launcher. She typed in the name Mimosa Oakley, and watched as the gift shot away.

Mimosa had potential. She could survive.

 **Garnet Blush, District 1 Mentor**

Garnet wasn't with Ebony in the Mentor's Section of the Games Headquarters. He was in the Tribute Section, where the dead tributes were sent after being picked up in the hovercraft. When he woke up that morning, an Avox gave him a note saying Glint was going to be there soon. Now he was waiting there for Glint.

Garnet reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded picture of his little sister Jade. He remembered sitting in these chairs for her body to come out of the arena. That day was horrible. Jade was sixteen when she went into the arena. She came out stiff and cold and covered in blood.

The doors opened. Garnet stood up, crushing the photo in his fist, hiding Jade's face from whoever else was behind the door. An Avox was rolling out a simple wooden box, while another attendant followed behind. Garnet walked over to the two, slipping the picture back in his pocket. He rested his fingertips on the edge of the coffin.

"I'm sorry," the attendant said. "Your district lost a fine young man." He nodded to the Avox.

The Avox lifted the lid of the coffin, allowing Garnet to see inside. Glint's blonde hair was matted and missing clumps, no doubt an affect of the acid. His face was dotted with red welts ringed in black. Garnet turned away. He didn't need to see any more. He'd seen all his tributes die. All except Ebony.

The Avox closed the lid, and wheeled the box to another doorway that would go to the trains. Time for Glint to go home.

Garnet looked up at the screen playing the Games in the corner of the room. There was live coverage everywhere in this building. Right now, the screen was showing Gossamer and Dock, sitting at the Cornucopia.

Garnet wondered if he would have to wait in this room again for Gossamer.

 **Next chapter, I promise, we'll be back in the arena with Mimosa. What did you guys think of the view into the mentor's box? This is the format my next story will be in.**


	22. The Announcement

**Surprise update! The homework has been lessening, so I've had a bit more time to write. Enjoy!**

I shed my jacket, hot and dehydrated. My throat is parched. I just sit on my tree branch, panting. I know the cameras are on me, but I make no effort to move or try to find any water. I know I'm dying. So why does it matter?

 _Trill_ , a little voice in my head whispers. _Trill is counting on you. And Hickory. Forrest. Tellin, Fletch, my mother. They need you. They matter._

And they do. They're the reason why I climb the tree higher to reach the parachute tangled in the branches above me. They're why I don't stay on the branch and wait for the end.

I reach the parachute and pull it down. Go back down to my perch, and open the pod. Inside is a metal canteen. I screw off the lid, and it's filled with water.

I take a sip, forcing myself to go slow. At the bottom of the pod, there is a note. I read it, then read it again. So I didn't imagine it. There's only one water source left in the arena. And it's going to take me a whole day—maybe more—to get there.

Taking another sip of the water, I tuck the parachute and then the water into my bag. I jump out of the tree, feeling much better than before, and set off to the water source.

The final five. Me, Gossamer, Dock, Fletch and Quinoa left. That's all. I wonder which one won't see the final four.

I kneel down beside a bush with clusters of berries. My fingers brush over one, then I rip it free. I'm not sure what kind they are, so just to be safe, I fling the berry aside and keep walking.

My axes feel heavy on my belt. I take them out, and sit down in the shade of a tree. My stamina has gone down considerably in these past couple days. Before I reached the arena, I could walk for a very long time without breaks. Now, I can barely walk for thirty minutes without having to stop. Must be all the weight I've lost.

A few hours after noon. The sky may be clouded over and gray and dismal, but the heat hasn't been affected. It may have been cool this morning, but that coldness quickly evaporated.

 _Left foot, right foot. Left foot, right foot_. I drag myself forwards, fighting through my exhaustion. I need to get to last water source. I have to. If I don't, I'll dehydrate to death, and that is not the death I want my family to see. I want them to see me fighting and on my feet until I draw my final breath.

Another berry bush. This time, I know the berries are edible. They're strawberries. I practically rip off the berries, and shove some into my mouth. I squeeze out the juice, savoring the delicious flavor. Rejuvenated, I set off again.

After about an hour of walking, I come across the summer border. Only one more quarter to go. I look up in the sky, and see the sun beginning to set. Where did the day go? It seems as if the days are getting shorter and shorter as the Games progress. Maybe the Capitol is getting sick of watching the five of us left just walk around without any bloodshed. They're sick and twisted like that.

But I'm determined to keep going. I walk through the setting sun, the sky beginning to turn dark, the stars starting to peek out. I keep going until my legs refuse to carry me any further. Then I climb the tree nearest to me, and settle in for the night.

The seal shines down at me and the anthem blares. I don't look up because I know there will be nobody there. I just close my eyes when the trumpets sound. My eyes click open, and I sit up, not wanting to miss a word.

A dull, monotone voice echoes throughout the arena. "Congratulations to the final five tributes of the Fourth Quarter Quell. Tomorrow at dawn, there will be a feast at the Cornucopia. All of you need food, and more than anything, water. If some of you do not attend, you will be dead in the next day. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor."

I sit back against the trunk of the tree. A feast? Is that what the Capitol wants? I let out a huff of breath. _The Capitol wants a feast_? I slip out of the sleeping bag. _I'll give them a feast._

I shove the bag into my backpack, and climb down from the tree. There may not have been a tribute in the sky tonight, but there will be tomorrow. It won't be me.

I'm absolutely exhausted. But I want to position myself first at the Cornucopia before I rest. Because there's no telling how long I'll sleep for, and I don't want to miss the feast.

It must be midnight by the time I reach the line where the trees end and the Cornucopia clearing begins. I crouch down low in the bushes, watching the golden horn in the moonlight. I must be the first here. I decide to get some rest while I still can. I lay out the sleeping bag and climb into it. Rip off leaves and branches from the bushes to camouflage myself.

 _Sleep lightly_ , I tell myself, letting my eyes close. Within minutes, I drift off.

It seems like minutes later when I wake again, a soft orange glow illuminating the arena. I quickly squirm out of the sleeping bag, wad it up and stuff it in my backpack. Then I turn to the plain. There are no signs of anybody else, or anything else. Then a table rises, with five water bottles, packs of crackers and apples on top.

I look to my left, and see a flash of something metallic. The others are near. And if they're near, the bloodshed will happen soon. I suck in a breath, and hold it.

Time for the feast to begin.

 **How did you guys like this chapter? Who do you think will die at the feast? As always, reviews are welcome.**

 **-D9T**


	23. The Feast: Day 13

**I know, I promised this update a while ago. I've had tournaments and lots of sports games and a major case of writers block. But here's the feast. After this, there may be five more chapters until the 4th Quarter Quell comes to a close.**

Almost instantaneously, the figure to my left runs out into the clearing and another figure sprints to the table from behind the Cornucopia. The one from the Cornucopia—I see the bottle green jacket and recognize as Quinoa—reaches the table. The other figure, Gossamer, sees this and pulls back her arm, then whips it forward. A ninja star impales Quinoa in the neck and she falls.

Boom. Her cannon goes off immediately. For a minute, I'm paralyzed with fear. Quinoa dead on the ground, a ninja star buried in her neck, blood oozing out and dripping onto the grass...Dock running to Gossamer as she dashes to the table...it's too much. Then I force myself back into one piece, take a deep breath, then run out of my hiding spot and towards the table.

I get halfway across the clearing before I sense danger. My head whips to the right, and I see a ninja star speeding towards my head. I yelp, and hit the ground. The ninja star sails over my head.

Gossamer launches another star at me while I'm on the ground. I scrabble back, and the point nicks my thigh. I bite back a scream of pain. Frantically, I flip around so my back is to Gossamer for a moment, then regain my footing and sprint with all my energy to the table.

I run in an unpredictable pattern. I weave, duck, leap, and veer off to the left and right, trying to avoid the stars of death being flung at me. At one point I hear the _whoosh_ of air as one speeds past my ear.

I finally reach the table. I yank off my backpack, and unzip the pouch. Where's Fletch? He should be here. I stuff a water bottle into my bag. My head whipping back and forth. Then I glance down for a second, and see Quinoa's lifeless face staring back at me.

I let out a small squeal, and start shoving more things into my backpack. Sure, I may have killed three people during these Games, but I haven't really looked one in the face after they've died.

"Mimosa!" I look towards the sound of the voice, and see Fletch standing in the clearing, holding an axe. He points at something over my shoulder. "Look out!"

I turn, and see Gossamer barreling towards me. As quickly as possible, I ready my own axes, and drop my backpack.

Gossamer is on me quickly, and I slash one of my axes at her. She dodges, but the blade cuts across her bicep. It doesn't even faze her. Gossamer reaches into her belt, and pulls out a short knife. I drop one of my axes, the lighter one, and put two hands on the handle of the heavier one. I become an animal, chopping and slashing at Gossamer, but barely touching her. She's too nimble and too fast for me, but I'm the same. Her knife barely touches me. I only get a gash across my cheek.

I don't know how long I spar with Gossamer for, but after a while, Fletch comes into the picture, Dock hot on his heels. Fletch tackles Gossamer, and almost immediately Dock takes on Fletch. Gossamer joins in, and I know now is my chance to run.

I run back to the table, hurriedly zip up my backpack, and slip it on my shoulder. I'm about to flee when I turn and see Dock standing there, my other axe—the one I dropped before fighting Gossamer—in his hand.

"Gossamer couldn't take you down," Dock snarls. "But I still can." With that, he attacks, sweeping the axe at me in a deadly arc.

I duck and the blade speeds over my head. While still on the ground, I ran the backside of the axe into Dock's ankle, causing him to cry out in pain and collapse. I spring up.

But then I see Fletch fighting Gossamer. Dock will join soon, and he'll be overpowered. I can't leave Fletch but himself again.

"Mimosa, go," Fletch says, then takes a stab at Gossamer, which she easily dodges.

"I'm not leaving you alone again," I respond, then practically jump on top of Gossamer and hold on with all my might.

"You lower district scum!" Gossamer shrieks, then digs her knife into my arm. I cry out, and fall. Gossamer turns to me, but Fletch lifts her off the ground, thrashing, and throws her down.

Dock groans, and begins to stir. I go the the table, and flip it over, the food spilling on Dock. Then I run. I don't stop until I reach the tree line, where my legs give out and I fall.

I can not go any further. Which means I have to camouflage myself. So I take a clump of dirt and rub it across my face, careful to avoid the large cut on my cheek Gossamer gave me. Then I climb the tree nearest to me, and stay there for the rest of the day.

There are a couple more pained cries and _thuds_ , but after a few more minutes, the fighting stops. I hear Dock say, "Which one do we go after?"

"The boy," Gossamer answers. "He's the threat. Once we take care of him, the girl will be easy to take down. Then the final two." I can imagine Gossamer's grin after saying that.

I hear their footsteps, then nothing else. Just the wind and my own heavy breaths.

So, Gossamer and Dock are going after Fletch. I don't want to say I'm glad, but I am. Fletch is so strong, he will at least injure them. And I don't want two fully trained Careers after me. I do have a breaking point. I have a bad feeling it's not too far away.

I'm so tired, I can barely keep my eyes open. I don't even bother with the sleeping bag today. I just take my rope and tie a slipknot around my waist and the branch. My eyes drift shut and within a minute, I'm asleep.

I wake several hours later to the sound of the anthem. Floating above me is the seal of Panem. I realize that I will only see this seal in the sky a few more times. It comforts me, but at the same time scares me. The next time it shows, my picture could be after it.

They show Quinoa's face, looking serious but calm to the four of us remaining. She looks down at us for about ten seconds, then vanishes. I hope her district is proud of her. She outlasted four Careers, and did many brave things during these Hunger Games.

After the Gamemakers show Quinoa, I take a moment to stretch out my back and get the stiffness out of my neck. Then I settle back down to sleep again.

Fighting for your life is hard work, you know.

 **Quinoa's dead. Sorry Quinoa.**

 **What at did you guys think? Let me know in the reviews. I'll try to update as quickly as possible, because I find writing this easier if there is going to be a death than just writing Mimosa walking around the arena.**


	24. Day 14

**I'm such an inconsistent updater. I'm sorry. I promise, my other stories will have more consistent updates. Now here is the chapter.**

Final four. These Games are almost over. That's my first thought when I wake up the next morning. I really think I can win these now. Sure, the other three tributes left may be stronger than me, but I could outsmart them if it came to that.

I ready my bag, and put my axe in my belt. I look around for my other axe until I remember Dock took it. The thought brings on a scowl. I didn't like him before, and I really don't now. That axe is the difference between my life and my death. And he took it.

I jump from the tree. I don't know where I'm going to go today. Maybe to the Cornucopia and see if I can find some more supplies. The Careers will be after Fletch, so it will be wide open.

My mind must be traveling faster than my feet. I've barely gone more than a few yards from my tree. But that's fine. All I need to do is outlast the other three tributes, and I'll be back in District 7.

But that includes Fletch. He'll have to die so I can live. Can I really have that on my conscience?

 _Of course you can_ , a voice whispers in my mind. _Your family needs you more._

I suppose that's true. My family—Hickory, Trill, my mother, Forrest even—need me more than Fletch does. So why do I feel so guilty?

I give my head a little shake to clear my mind. I'm overthinking this. This is the Hunger Games. Twenty three die, only one lives. Simple as that.

Behind me, a branch snaps, and I whirl around. Then have a double take. Because I'm looking at myself.

Well, not really. I mean, it is me, but I look like I've risen from the grave. My brown hair is greasy and matted and twisted into thick ropes. My face is paler than usual, with sharp facial features and hollow cheeks. My ghost is wearing the District 7 tribute clothes—the brown jacket and olive green drawstring pants—but they're ripped and frayed, and there are two razor sharp axes in my/it's hands.

The thing bares it's teeth at me. "Monster," it hisses, and I flinch. It's my voice. "You killed three innocent children. They had family. Hopes and dreams for the future. Emotions. You destroyed all that with one of these." The creature lifts one of the axes, and sunlight flashes off the blade.

In that moment I realize what is happening. With Fletch and the Careers after each other, I'm alone. The audience must be bored with me. So the Gamemakers sent this mutt after me: a more deadly and deathly version of myself.

I brandish my own axe as the mutt howls and leaps at me. It has inhuman speed, and cut a gash on the side of my neck before I can even react. I swing my blade at the mutt's torso, but it easily dodges. It laughs.

"You're a chameleon," the mutt says, avoiding my other attempt to kill it. "One minute a heartless killer, another too kind to kill me."

And maybe I can use that to my advantage. But something tells me the Gamemakers programmed this mutt to get inside my head, to make me angry, then kill me.

I put both hands on my axe, and hack down at the mutt. It dodges every time.

"Too slow, Mimosa," it says. "Like you were too slow to save Tellin. Too slow to defend yourself from the Careers and have Fletch risk himself for you."

This sends a wave of heat to my face. I let loose a yell, and charge the mutt. It grins, and raises its axes, fending off my attack. I manage to cut the side of the mutt's stomach, but it counters with a wide gash on my thigh before crumpling to the ground. I limp over to the mutt.

"You wouldn't kill me, would you?" the mutt asks. It looks so small, so young, and for a moment, I wonder if this is what I look like to the Careers. But I quickly get the thought out of my mind.

No mercy, I think, then stop, horrified with myself. Am I really that heartless? That cold and calculating? What am I becoming? A monster. But I have to kill this mutt. That's all it is, I remind myself. A creature created by the Capitol.

As if it read my thoughts, the mutt says, "But is that really what I am to you? Why have you refrained from killing me, Mimosa? I'll tell you. If I die, a part of you will die, maybe the most important part."

"No," I say. "You're just a creation of the Capitol. You have nothing to do with me." Those words shock the mutt. In the few seconds it lowers its guard, I fling my axe at it, impaling the chest. Immediately, the mutt slumps down, its eyes closing, dead.

For a moment, I stare in horror at the scene. I'm looking at myself with an axe in my chest. How soon will this actually happen to me?

Emotionlessly, I pull my axe out of the mutt's chest, and wipe the blood off the blade with the hem of my shirt. For some reason, I'm fighting off tears. I didn't get this upset when I killed three actual people, but when I kill a mutt, I almost cry. Maybe it was right. Maybe I lost my sanity after killing it.

Even if I do win, the old Mimosa Oakley isn't going back to District 7. Mimosa Oakley the scarred and damaged victor will be going back.

 _One thing at a time_ , I think, then take out my water bottle. I take a small sip, then stuff it back in the bag. I just want to go home.

When I look up at the sky, I'm shocked to see it's a little past noon. I must have been dealing with that mutt for a while.

I head for the Cornucopia. Maybe there will be something helpful for me there. So I walk nonstop for an hour—moving aimlessly and slowly and drinking all my water along the way—until I reach the edge of the clearing. I check to make sure the coast is clear, and stealthily make my way to the Cornucopia.

The table from the feast is gone, but there is still a bloodstain on the grass. Where Quinoa died. Nothing really ever goes away in the arena. There are little remnants of everything that happened. I wonder that if I looked hard enough, I would find the net Tellin killed Blossom in.

The arena is a place of darkness and death and last breaths of innocent children who didn't have their families by their sides.

I creep into the mouth of the horn. The Careers have almost picked it clean. The golden surface shines onto a bare floor. After a few minutes poking around, I exit the Cornucopia, upset there was nothing inside.

But something reflects in the grass and catches my eye. It's a throwing knife. I smile to myself, and stick it in my pocket. I comb through the grass and also find a few feet of string—which I tug on and it's nice and strong—and another throwing knife. I put it all in my pocket so that I can take them out on a moment's notice.

For a few minutes, I camp out inside the Cornucopia, far enough in so that other tributes can't see me, and open a pack of crackers I got during the feast. I nibble on a few, trying to get something in my stomach. It feels good to eat something, but I don't have much of an appetite.

After about five minutes, I don't dare stay here anymore. The Gamemakers could send something else after me, or the Careers could give up looking for Fletch and come after me.

I decide to find some more food. I still have the crackers and a few apples from the feast, along with a bottle of water, but a little extra never hurt.

In the next hour, I must have picked a half gallon of blackberries. I found a thicket of bushes, and just took all of them.

It is dusk now. The sky is turning dark and purple. I climb a tree near me, and settle in.

 _Boom_. A cannon sounds.

I freeze. Desperately, I hope it's one of the Careers. Fletch is so strong, he could at least kill Gossamer. I'll know for certain in a few seconds.

And sure enough, the anthem starts and the seal appears. The seal seems to float there for an eternity before it disappears and reveals the face of the fallen tribute.

Fletch Lindell's face is looking down at me.

I can feel the cameras on me, watching my every move to seeing Fletch's face in the sky. I struggle to remain emotionless, but tears are forming in my eyes. Fletch, the selfless but vicious looking boy from my district is...dead?

I look at my district partner for a few more seconds before he evaporates and leaves forever. Then I just sit there staring at nothing.

Numb. I feel numb. The tears welling in my eyes start to become painful and my throat is closing up. I bury under my sleeping bag, and let the tears flow. Silent sobs escape my mouth, and I whisper goodbye to Fletch.

But with him gone, the Careers will now come after me. I take a few breaths to compose myself, and wipe the tears from my face.

May the hunt begin.


	25. Final Two: Day 15

_I'm back on my pedestal, like when the Games first began. All the other tributes are on their pedestals, too. Until the gong sounds and they all jump off and start moving towards me. The twenty one that are dead have blank white eyes, while Gossamer and Dock have full black eyes. I don't know which one scares me more._

 _I try to move, but my feet are stuck to the metal. I begin to panic as everybody pulls wicked looking knives, all serrated on one side. Eventually, I just stop struggling because I know it's helpless._

 _The first one to approach me is a girl wearing a yellow jacket. There is a small spot of red on the front of her jacket, right in the middle. Then I recognize her as the District 3 girl, the one I killed in the bloodbath. She whispers to me, "Revenge." Then she takes her knife and slashes my back._

 _Just like how I killed her._

 _Then a boy wearing the red of District 6 walks up to me. He says the same thing as the District 3 girl, then slashes my chest. Then Thistle, and she slashes my chest again. The three tributes I killed, the way I killed them._

 _Then they all swarm me. I can't tell who is who, all I know is excruciating pain. I look down, and my body is covered with bleeding gashes. A blade cuts into my cheek, my arm, my stomach. It all hurts._

 _I look up, and almost start screaming in horror and crying from joy at the same time. In front of me is little Tellin, with the arrow still in her stomach. Behind her is Fletch, and he's so much bigger than her that I can see how he died. A long, but deep, slice right across his chest._

 _Then Tellin takes her knife and stabs me right in the stomach. She doesn't pull it out. She just looks at me with her blank eyes, a look of blame on her face. I try to say something to her, but only a terrible choking sound comes out._

 _Next is Fletch. He just shakes his head in disappointment and cuts my chest. That one hurts the most because so many cuts have been made there. But it hurts on the inside, too. Fletch would never hurt me. This just shows how much the Games change people._

 _Then Gossamer and Dock approach me. Gossamer smirks and twists the knife in my stomach. I want to scream, but no sound comes out. Gossamer trails the top of her knife around my face, cutting as she goes, before finally slashing her blade multiple times on my forehead._

 _Finally, Dock. "You are weak, Seven. You are nothing to me," he whispers. Then Dock cuts my throat._

 _I can barely breathe. I'm choking, choking to death on my own blood. The other tributes surround me until all I can see are flailing limbs, blank eyes and knife blades. Slowly, everything fades to black…_

My eyes click open, and for a moment I'm too terrified to move. I glance down at my chest, expecting it to be bloody and slashed to ribbons. But it's not. I grab my axe, wipe part of the blade and use it as a mirror and examine my face. No blood, bruises, not even a scratch. I must be paranoid. It was just a dream.

I pack up my supplies, and jump from the tree. I have to be extra careful today. Dock and Gossamer will be hunting me, so if I'm not cautious, they will kill me. I'm so close to going back home. I can't lose now.

I crouch behind the tree and start camouflaging myself. I rub dirt across my face and dead leaves on my clothes. I keep my axe ready at all times. One mistake, one false footstep, one instant of not being ready could mean my death.

I creep along in the shadows. Every five minutes or so, I stop and look around. Once I think I hear footsteps, but it's nothing. Well, nothing I can see anyways.

This goes on for about two hours. I haven't gone very far, but I can never be too cautious.

It must be noon now, or a little after. I take a break to drink some water and eat something. Then I stay hidden for a few more hours, until it looks to be about three in the afternoon. That's when I hear real footsteps. And see the faint outline of two people through the leaves, one tall and muscular, the second slender and shorter. But I know who they are.

As quietly as possible, I try to get out of my little hiding spot. I step on a twig, and it breaks with a loud snap! I freeze, then bound away, not caring about stealth anymore.

Gossamer's voice. "I see her!" Whoops and cheers. My feet pounding on the ground. Deep breaths. Lungs burning. Little snapshots of my surroundings enter my brain. Fear overtakes the rest. Fear of being caught, fear of facing the last two Careers, fear of dying a long and painful death at their hands.

I push myself to the limit, running so hard, my throat begins to close and throb from sucking air through it at such a rapid pace. I try to be as unpredictable as possible, but Dock and Gossamer are right behind me. At one point, a ninja star flies past me, and it cuts my ear. Gossamer is aiming for my head. The thought makes me run harder.

I'm so tired. It feels like I've been running for hours. A part of me wants to just stop and let them get me. It scares me.

After a few more minutes, I can hear Dock whispering to Gossamer. Then their footsteps disappear. Just to be sure, I glance behind me but they aren't there. I stop and fall to the ground, trying to catch my breath. I drag myself into a small bush to hide, but I don't fit and end up just sitting next to a tree. I stay there until the sky begins to turn dark.

"You're really making this too easy for us, Seven."

Instantly, my axe is in my hand and I'm on my feet, turning to see Gossamer standing there, a ninja star in her hand.

"Where's your partner in crime?" I ask Gossamer, both genuinely curious and trying to bide my time. It works.

"He's out," Gossamer says, gesturing to the rest of the arena. "Looking for you. The victor of these Games are coming soon." Gossamer twirls her ninja star in her fingers. "It's going to be me." She throws the star.

It pierces my shoulder before I can react.

I yell out, and slash my own blade at Gossamer. She easily avoids it, and hurls another star at me, hitting my other shoulder.

I try to kick her legs out from underneath her, but Gossamer jumps out of the way. While she's still off balance, I pull out the two ninja stars and cut her in the side. Gossamer yells in pain, and I push her against the tree. I backhand the ninja star out of her hand.

"You don't deserve to win," I whisper to Gossamer. My arms are trembling and tears blur my vision. "You're a Career. You enter the Games for the glory. The kids from the outer districts go in and hope they can go back to their families." I can feel the tears running down my face now. My mind wanders to Trill and Hickory. I wonder if they're watching.

All of a sudden, Gossamer looks scared for her life. She doesn't look like a trained killer anymore. She just looks like a scared girl.

"Please," Gossamer begs. "don't kill me. I can help you get Dock. He's the threat. We can take him down. Then we battle it out."

For a second, I hesitate. But I know that's what Gossamer wants.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I want to go home." Gossamer's eyes widen and I dig my axe into her chest. When I pull it out, Gossamer crumples at my feet and her cannon sounds. I don't even get her weapons, which could help me. I just walk away from the fallen girl from 1.

The anthem plays, and Gossamer's face is shown in the sky. She's dead. So are twenty-one others.

Which means it's the final two. Me and Dock. Time for the climax of the Hunger Games. Time to end the 4th Quarter Quell.

 **I'm so sorry this update took so long! I was hit with a serious case of writer's block halfway through this chapter, so I didn't write for like five days. I wrote a majority of this chapter on a bus because I'm at rec camp this week and we just went to the city. Also, I had a sports tournament last weekend (we lost) so I didn't have much time to write.**

 **Anyways, how did you guys like this chapter? Review and let me know. I'll try to get the next chapter up ASAP. Three, maybe four more chapters until this story is finished!**


	26. The Victor: Night 15 to Day 16

**This is it! Our last chapter in the arena! We're almost finished!**

Almost immediately after the anthem ends—which seems later than it usually does—there are rustles behind me. Too many to be just Dock. I turn around, and see a pair of eyes staring back at me. Then another. And another.

A huge deer with razor sharp antlers bursts through the trees right in front of me. A fox follows it. So do a few rabbits, a dozen chipmunks, a lone coyote, a pack of wolves and a swarm of birds.

While I'm still frozen, the birds dive at me, pecking and clawing at my face. Then I move, swatting at the birds and running before the other mutts tear me to shreds.

My axe blade finds many birds and I cut them down. But there are so many. I can feel them ripping open my face with their claws. All the scratches, the blood dripping… I can only imagine what I look like.

About five yards ahead is the end of the tree line into the clearing where the Games started. If I can get there, will the mutts stop chasing me? Even if they do, surely Dock will be there. Him alone will be almost as bad as facing these mutts.

Something scrapes my leg, tearing the fabric and opening gashes on my calf. I run harder.

I burst through the trees, then turn to see if the mutts followed me. They didn't. Which means that the Gamemakers want a one-on-one battle between me and Dock. And who am I to say I won't do it?

Before I go looking for Dock, I take a sip of water and hastily bandage my leg. After I straighten out, I literally take three steps before some force knocks me over from my left side.

I hit my head hard on the ground when I fall. Immediately, a dull but consistent throb starts and I feel dizzy and nauseous. It's a concussion. I know that almost as soon as the headache starts. I'm still struggling when I squirm my way to face my attacker, who can only be Dock. I try to stare him down but my vision is starting to become fuzzy. His face is blurry.

"Something wrong?" Dock asks, feigning sympathy. "Does your head hurt?" He grabs the top of my hair and slams my head down in the ground again. I cry out. It feels like my brain is bouncing back and forth in my skull.

Dock laughs. "It looks like we all know who's going to win _these_ Games." I decide not to answer him. I look around for my axe, which fell out of my grip when I hit the ground. It's just a few inches out of reach.

Dock holds up an axe— _my_ axe that he took during the feast. He rests the blade sideways on my cheek, the sharp part just slicing the side of my nose.

"Isn't this yours?" Dock asks.

"Yes," I choke out.

"Well, isn't that funny," Dock says, grinning wickedly. "This axe killed your district partner."

I can feel my eyes widen at that. I try to fight the urge to thrash around, trying to rip Dock's head right off his shoulders, but it doesn't work. My body seems to act on its own, and I start raining punches at Dock. One connects with his nose. I can hear it crunch slightly, but I'm so uncoordinated, I may just be hearing things.

"You monster!" I scream. Dock just grins. He must be enjoying my reaction.

"Imagine the irony in that," Dock whispers. "One weapon killing both District Seven tributes. And their weapon of choice." I glare at Dock, never breaking eye contact, even though I want to. He pulls out a small knife. "But before that happens, I want to savor this moment." He stabs me.

I scream in pain, looking at the knife handle protruding from my stomach. Blood is streaming out of it, trickling down my sides and soaking into the grass. Dock rips the knife out. I try to move my hand to cover the wound, but they are pinned. I don't know what to do.

How long does it take to bleed to death? I have a feeling I'll find out soon. Because I'm dying. I think of Trill and Hickory, of my mother and Forrest, everybody back in District 7 watching me right now. I'm so close to the end, yet I still can't do it.

I try one thing that could save me. I look around for my axe, and start to reach for it. Thankfully, Dock is still gloating and grinning in victory. He barely notices.

My fingertips brush the handle. I glance over for just a second, then face Dock again. The axe is now in my grip. All I need is a clear shot.

And I get it. I ram the non-bladed side into his side, and Dock cries out, rolling off me. I stand, then immediately regret it. The ground seems to be rippling under my feet. My head pounds, my legs feel weak and wobbly, and my vision is blurring badly now. All I see are blobs of color. I take one step, but can't go any further. It's a good thing it's dark. I don't want to look weaker than I already am.

Then I'm knocked to the ground again, and a burning pain shoots up my legs. I look down to see Dock's trident speared through my leg at the shins. He pulls it out, and more agony grabs at my leg. My shin must be broken. Now I'm rendered useless in one leg. If I have to run I'm dead.

"There," Dock says, standing over me, his trident in one hand, one of my axes in the other. I didn't lose my grip on the other, even as I went down. "I'm not going to die because of you. You're not going to win. _I_ am. Say goodbye, little girl."

I kick Dock's knee with my good leg. He buckles for a second, but it's enough to make his trident throw go wide, just missing my neck. I kick him again and again until he finally falls. I struggle to my feet, but fall after putting weight on my broken leg. I pull my throwing knife out of my pocket, and crawl to Dock. I plunge the knife into his stomach.

He howls, but I rip the knife out and jab it in somewhere else. His intestine, maybe? I don't know. All I know is by the end of it, Dock's abdomen is bloody and ripped to pieces and I'm horrified at my actions. I'm becoming a monster. Then I realize something else.

I do not want to kill this boy.

He may have done terrible things during these Games, but he doesn't deserve to die. Nobody who entered this arena deserved to die. Some were so young. Tellin, Thistle, and I don't think that the girl from 10 was much older than thirteen. But if I want to go back home, Dock needs to die.

With tears in my eyes, I lay on the bloodied ground. "I'm sorry," I whisper to Dock. He looks over at me, his face rapidly paling in the moonlight. He doesn't say anything. I glance over at him, and see he's looking at the sky, mouthing something. The blood from his stomach is gushing out. I clasp my hand on my own stomach, trying to stop the blood flow.

I feel light-headed, probably from all the blood loss. My leg is still burning. It feels like my bones were replaced with hot steel rods. Now, it's all down to a matter of willpower to stay alive.

I close my eyes.

A cannon sounds.

I'm not really sure which one of us is alive. I feel like I'm dead. We must both look like we're dead. Will there be a victor of the 100th Hunger Games? Or will the final two contestants both bleed to death side by side? The Capitol must not know either, because there's a two minute pause between the final cannon and the trumpets. In that pause, the arena lightens. My head begins to throb and my eyes hurt. I turn on my side and close my eyes. The light hurts.

But the trumpets sound, and a hovercraft appears in the sky. A voice is projected into the arena.

"Ladies and gentleman, I am proud to present the victor of the Fourth Quarter Quell, Mimosa Oakley, the female tribute from District Seven!"

As a set of claws reaches down and gently lifts Dock from the ground, a ladder descends for me. I crawl to it, keeping weight off my bad leg. I grab onto a rung, and the current freezes me in place.

I'm leaving the arena. I'm alive. Which means that I just won the Hunger Games.

When I'm pulled into the hovercraft, I fall onto the floor, crawl away from the open door, and cry. Sobs rack my body. But I'm not sad. They're tears of relief and of joy. I'm alive. I can see my family again.

A group of people dressed in white surround me and lift me off the ground. I start to fight them until one tells me that they're doctors and they're here to help me. I nod, still sobbing.

The doctors carry me to a table, and gently set me down on it. One holds a syringe filled with a liquid tinted green. He injects it into my arm. Immediately, all my energy and strength leaves. The doctor whispers something to me, but I don't quite catch it. Slowly, I let my eyes close.

Everything fades to black, and I hold one thought in my head. _I'm a victor._

 **So Mimosa won! Big surprise? Haha, not really, I know. Just to make it clear, Dock bled to death after sustaining his injuries.**

 **There are are only a few chapters left! Please review and tell me what you think. I hope you've enjoyed this so far!**


	27. Back in the Capitol

When I finally wake up, the first thing that registers is the color white. Bright fluorescent lights gleam off of plain walls. The lights still start a dull throb in my head, but it is very toned down compared to in the arena.

I'm laying in a bed, wearing a paper robe. The sheets covering me are thin. There are tubes stuck in my arm, which I'm inspecting when I notice the young woman standing silently next to me. She holds a clipboard packed to the limit with sheets of paper. She is wearing a long white coat, with the pockets filled with different colored pens. When she sees me awake, she smiles.

"Welcome back, Miss Oakley," she says. "Congratulations on your victory. I'm sure your district is very proud." She says this with no emotion whatsoever, her face blank. Then, flipping her papers, she runs down a list of my injuries during the Games. A few scrapes and bruises. An arrow wound. A few stab marks. A puncture to the stomach. A concussion, which she says is healing nicely. A broken shin.

"We tried a new medicine on you," the doctor says, which makes me nervous. I didn't know that winning made you subject to the Capitol's testing. She must see my expression because she soon adds, "It is designed to mend broken bones faster. Don't worry, it worked like a charm." Instinctively, I reach down to my shin. It feels normal. When I pull my hand back, there's no blood at all. I guess it really did work.

The doctor pats my arm. "Again, congratulations on your victory, Mimosa. You're very lucky. If that boy from Four had stabbed you any lower, you would be dead." On that note, a panel on the side of the wall opens, and she leaves.

And I'm alone.

This gives me time to dwell on a few things. The fact that if Dock had stabbed me lower I would have died sticks out. Also that fact that the doctor called him "the boy from 4". Before the Games, everybody knew Dock. Now that he's dead, he's just a faceless, nameless tribute who went into the arena and never came out. All twenty three others will be forgotten. Tellin will be.

No, I'm going to remember her. I'm going to make sure everybody remembers her. And Fletch. And Thistle, Gossamer, Glint, Dock, Blossom, Quinoa. Everybody. Nobody will be left behind.

And then it really hits me. They're all dead. They're dead because I lived. Some were so young. Others were older than me. But they didn't want to be there. They didn't want to meet their ends before they hit age twenty. I think back to years past. The tributes from 7. From the television screen I've watched twenty eight tributes from District 7 enter the arena. Out of all of them, only one came back. Willow.

When I was small, I always wondered where they went when they didn't come back. I watched the Games for the first time when I was six years old. I still remember them. Every death that I saw haunted me. I remember seeing the girl from 12 hacked to pieces, literally. I remember seeing the boy from 3 with his neck being broken. But most of all, I remember the finale. The girl from 1, who went on to win, gave her final opponent, the boy from 6, a slow, painful death, slicing small cuts, breaking bones, until she finally put her dagger in his brain.

The door panel opens again. Behind it stands a young man dressed in red pants and a red tunic. The Avox holds a tray, and just at the sight of it my stomach growls. _Food_.

The Avox enters the room and the panel slides shut. He pushes a button on the side of my bed, and I rise to a sitting position. He places the tray on my lap. Then he turns and leaves before I can even thank him.

I focus on the food. There's a small bowl of grapes, a warm buttered roll, a few slices of meat—ham, I think—and a tall glass of water. A note on the side says to eat what I can. If I don't finish, that's okay.

Then I turn the note over, and smile at the small writing scrawled across the paper.

 _Mimosa- I have been rooting for you ever since the reaping. You had hope and spirit and a reason to go back to your district. I'm sure they're all celebrating. Congratulations._

I begin eating. I devour the ham and roll, but I can hardly finish the rest. All that time in the arena barely eating must have affected how much I can eat. I wash everything down with the water, but I'm still fighting to keep everything down. It's like when I first left home, and first started eating Capitol food. It's funny. The beginning and end of my journey have the same feeling.

Another Avox enters the room. She holds a pile of neatly folded clothes. The girl places the clothes on the foot on my bed, then helps me out. She supports the side where my shin broke, while I hop on my good leg. Still on one leg—which is stronger than I thought it would be—the Avox girl straps some sort of black brace over my shin. Probably just a precaution. Then she points to the clothes on the bed.

"Do I have to change?" I ask, just to be sure. The girl nods. She faces the wall so I have some privacy.

I go to put in the clothes, but my hand freezes when I reach for them. It's the tribute outfit. I squeeze my eyes shut as an onslaught of images begin. I see the mutt dressed as me with the ripped clothing, Tellin taking her last breath, Dock bleeding to death next to me, our blood mixing in the ground. Then I change, shedding the paper robe, and quickly putting on the shirt and jacket. The only difference is that instead of pants, I have shorts now. Probably so that I don't have anything covering the brace.

"I'm changed," I say to the Avox. "You can look now." She turns. The panel slides open again, and this time, I can see into the hallway. It's still a glaring white with no visible doors. There are little gray rectangles above where I assume the doors are and they have names on them. Mine must say Mimosa Oakley. A whiff of something sweet smelling wafts in from the hallway.

I step into the hall, and the Avox follows. The panel closes. I don't know where to go until the Avox girl points behind me. I turn.

In a small room at the end of the hallway, is everybody. Willow, Elm, Delica, Portian, even Tatiana, Fletch's old stylist. My legs seem to not work anymore. I can't move. I just stand there, tears of joy in my eyes.

I hadn't realized how much I missed all of them. Even Delica, and I never thought I would miss my escort. Willow and Elm… I may have not thought about them a lot, but I missed them so much. I'll be spending lots of time with them, now that I'm a victor.

Willow approaches me. She wraps her arms around me, and whispers, "I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you," I whisper back. She puts her arm around my shoulders and guides me back to the room where Elm, Delica, Portian and Tatiana are. They all congratulate me, though Elm seems a little sad. Of course he does. Yet another one of his tributes died in the arena. And Fletch was so close to coming back.

Thinking about Fletch sends a pang of sadness through me. I may have not known him very well, but he was practically family to me. At least I can help his family—his sister and mother—now that I won.

Portian embraces me, telling me how he knew I was going to win all along.

"Everybody thought I was crazy," Portian exclaims. "Everybody thought that Dock was going to win. Or Gossamer. Or even Quinoa! But I said 'No, it's going to be Mimosa Oakley. She's going to destroy that arena.' I thought you were a goner in that last fight. Dock was taking _charge_. When you broke—"

"Okay, Portian, that's enough," Tatiana interrupted, and I gave her a grateful look. "You better go get her ready for the interview."

Portian takes me to a passage at the end of the hallway. We end up in the Training Center. The gymnasium is dark, but all the stations are still set up. Last time I was here, everybody was still alive. How many days did the Games last for? At least two weeks. It felt like forever.

We cross the gym to the elevators. As the elevators shoot upwards, I think of all the tributes who will never come back. After the Games, all tributes return home. However, most of them go back in a box.

When the doors slide open, Devia, Octavian and Magnus swarm me, pulling me out of the elevator car and bubbling praise. As much as I don't really want to admit it, I missed them, too. Even if they are loud and obnoxious sometimes. But they sincerely care about me. At least, I think they do.

They bring me to the dining room, where pre-prepared plates sit on the table. Devia shows me my seat, and they all sit around me and start eating. I look hungrily to my plate, but again, my portions are small. I eat the food—mashed potatoes drowning in gravy, a slab of turkey and green beans with butter—in about five minutes.

"Can I have some more?" I ask. Magnus looks at me like I'm insane.

"Oh, no no no," he says. "What if you throw it all back up on stage?" He looks at his teammates. "Do you guys remember the year when that happened?"

"Yeah," Octavian says. "They were showing the highlight reel and showed one of the kills. It was really gross and bloody, and the girl who won just puked all over the stage. She couldn't handle it."

"Oh," I say. Suddenly I lose my appetite.

After everybody finishes eating, Portian tells the prep team to take me into my room and get me ready for the interview. They take me down the hall and into my old room, where I spent my final time in the Capitol before leaving for the Games. I can't help but look down where Fletch's room is. Was. Because it isn't Fletch's room anymore. It's the room for next year's boy tribute.

Devia sits me down and they all start working their magic. Magnus gives my hair a quick trim before brushing it out.

"They did a good job," Magnus says. "It's so smooth."

Then they babble to each other about the Games. The tributes, the arena, the deaths and killings. I tune out most of what they say.

An hour later, I'm ready. My hair is down and wavy, cascading past my shoulders. My cheekbones are highlighted, my eyes lightly colored black, my lips pink. I look like a victor. I look powerful and beautiful.

Portian walks in, holding a large bag that must contain my dress. I catch a glint of silver from the bottom, but that's it. Portian looks me over, then tells Devia, Octavian and Magnus they're okay to leave. They scamper out.

"Ready to see your dress?" Portian asks. I nod, and Portian unzips the bag, revealing my interview dress. Quickly, I put it on, and look at myself in the mirror. My dress is metallic silver, long and tight. At the bottom, there is a pile of emerald green leaves. They swirl upwards, becoming less and less as they go up, going from the pile to a single leaf at the top. The sleeves end at my shoulders, and the neck climbs halfway up my throat. Paired with my makeup, it looks stunning.

"Thank you," I say to Portian. He smiles.

"Well, I wouldn't want you to go on stage looking bad, now would I?" Portian asks. Now it's my turn to smile.

Then a thought hits me and I turn to Portian. "Can you do a fishtail braid in my hair?" I ask.

"Like Tellin did?" Portian asks quietly, knowing that's why I want it. I nod, and Portian does it. It looks better with the dress than my hair down did. And it's a tribute to Tellin.

Together, Portian, Willow, Delica, Devia, Octavian, Magnus and I take the elevator to the level beneath the stage. Everybody takes their positions, Delica ordering everybody around. The area is barely lit, so when everybody takes their spot, I'm left alone in the dark.

The music starts and I can hear Jupiter introducing the show. There's a slight clicking noise as one of the metal plates rises on to the stage. My prep team goes up first. I hope they're enjoying themselves. Another clicking, and Delica goes on stage. Then Portian, then Willow. At Willow's appearance, the crowd screams and starts cheering wildly. She was a popular victor, and the Capitol loves her. I'm sure some of them are sad that she won't be mentoring anymore.

I feel my plate starting to rise. It reminds me of when I was lifted into the arena, and I begin to panic a little. Just like then, lights blind me. But these lights aren't harsh white. They're blue and purple. Then the sound of the audience hits me. The deafening roar mixed with chants of my name. When I smile, I can't help myself. They must truly be glad to see me.

Jupiter walks over to me and congratulates me. He brings me to my chair, which is surrounded by my team. Even Elm and Tatiana are there, and I'm happy to see them. I know I may need extra support.

The lights dim, and a huge screen turns on. When the District 1 reapings begin, my heart rate rises. I don't want to see this. All of the people on screen are dead except me.

I watch the reapings, the chariots, interviews, training scores. When the countdown starts, I grab onto the first hand I see. The fingers squeeze my hand, and I look up and see Willow. She nods to me and I look back to the screen, every detail beginning to etch itself into my memory.

The first casualty is the girl from 10, who is killed by Thistle with an arrow to the next. The boy from 3, a ninja star to the chest. Dock spearing the boy from 9. Dock smacking the girl from 8 in the face with a backpack, then Fletch stabbing her in the heart. The District 3 girl, my kill. The District 5 girl goes off to attack Tellin, but the District 2 boy throws her to the ground and Glint whips her in the face until she either bleeds to death or just dies. The little boy from 12 who almost killed me that Fletch killed. Dock slashing the boy from 10 in the forehead, then leaving him to bleed to death. The boy from 8 slashes the girl from 6 across the throat. Then me again, killing the boy from 6. I just learned he was thirteen. Dock again, shoving the girl from 12 against the Cornucopia then thrusting his trident into her chest. Finally, Glint whips the boy from 11 in the face until he dies.

That's it for the bloodbath. Twelve tributes gone in a matter of minutes. Half of them dead. I feel the same sort of sadness as I did when this actually happened. Now seeing the deaths, seeing how gruesome some of them were, I feel even worse.

I glance to a smaller screen, showing my reaction. My face is pale and I look like I'm going to be sick. If the Capitol finds this entertaining—sending children to die then watching the winner watch everybody else die again—they're just cruel. Because this whole thing is cruel.

They show me on the screen, climbing the tree where I spent my first night. Then they show how the District 5 boy died. The flowers strangled him. I didn't know him, but I still feel bad. That's a terrible way to go, without even a fight.

The cameramen switch between shots of tributes dying and pictures of me. Me climbing the tree to escape the Careers. Fletch killing the boy from 2. Me running from mutts. Glint whipping the boy from 8 until he dies. Me tending to my arrow wound Thistle gave me. Tellin stabbing Blossom with an arrow while trapped in a net.

They show me allying with Tellin. She looks so small, so young, so full of energy that it hurts. There is a small montage of shots of us together, then they play her death. Now, I see what happened. Thistle had climbed the tree, alone, and seen us coming. She had been aiming for my head, which would have killed me immediately if I hadn't crouched over. I see the arrow piercing Tellin for the second time. I see myself throwing the axe at Thistle, then her falling from the branch, my axe in her chest. Tears flood my eyes as Tellin chokes out her final words in my arms, breathes her final breath as I hold her. The audience is beside themselves. There are sobs that I can hear even from on the stage.

Skip ahead to when Glint dies. He is on the screen, running as the acid drops fall. Dock and Gossamer run ahead, leaving him behind. Glint falls, the poison in the water too much. He is whispering something. I don't hear it but I read his lips. _I'm sorry_. That's what he's saying.

There's a small bit on Fletch. He allied with Quinoa. Why? Even if it was a plan to protect the three of us against the remaining Careers, it would have ended badly. And they didn't even find me, so that plan didn't work very well.

The feast is played in full, largely focusing on me, right from the start. There is a very good shot from between leaves of Quinoa being killed. I only say it is good because of the camera angle, not because of Quinoa dying. After that shot, there is a full view of the field. That feels like it was so long ago. Not a few days ago.

Then comes Fletch's fight with the Careers. Now I can see what happens. Gossamer and Dock split up, while Dock went after Fletch. Gossamer was hiding the whole time. Dock told Fletch she was out hunting me. That got his anger going. While Fletch was blindly stabbing his spear, Dock managed to get the axe in his chest.

Tears openly start flowing down my face. I don't care anymore. Fletch… I want him to come back. He was so nice, even though he looked intimidating. Now when I go back home, I'll have to face his grieving family. The thought alone makes me nervous.

Gossamer's death is next. I can clearly see what happened now. Gossamer's reaction. She started off as a brave Career, then deteriorated into a scared little girl. Not everybody is invincible. Not even the Careers.

When the final fight is shown, I don't watch. I don't want to relive that ever again. But tiny glimpses work their way into my vision. From what little I see, it was as bloody and gruesome as ever.

And then it's over. Jupiter looks a little upset at me that I didn't watch the whole thing. Can't these Capitol people figure out that I'm only a fifteen year old who has a limit on things I want to remember? The finale of the Games is something I want to forget. But I guess they don't see that. All I can do is hope my second interview goes better.

Of course, it doesn't.

I mean, I look okay. I'm wearing a sky blue silk gown to cover up my brace and my hair is in a fishtail again. But once Jupiter starts asking me questions, I give him very short answers. I can see his frustration with me beginning to build.

"So, Mimosa," he says, leaning forward. "Why did you ally with Tellin?"

"She was so young," I answer. "I wanted to protect her."

"I see," Jupiter says. "How did you feel when she died?"

I glare at Jupiter. What kind of question is that? She was _twelve_. She didn't deserve to die. Instead of calming myself down before answering, I just explode, all of my anger streaming out.

"How did I feel?" I growl. "I felt like I was helpless. Watching a _twelve year old_ die while you can't save them… It's inhumane. She didn't want that. She didn't _deserve_ that. She had her whole life in front of her. A family who loves her. She… she…" I can feel my anger evaporating, sadness replacing it. I don't finish.

Jupiter sees that I am upset and gives me questions that need smaller answers. Until he asks me about Fletch.

"Did you know your district partner, Fletch Lindell, before the reaping?" Jupiter asks. I shake my head, already knowing where this is going.

"Did you two become friends after?" Jupiter gently prompts.

"Yes," I say. "And I lost some good friends during these Games. Tellin and Fletch. I even spent time with Blossom. Happy now? You got your answer."

"Just one final question," Jupiter says, not even looking like my rudeness has bothered him. "How did you manage to defeat Dock?"

I take a deep breath, composing myself. "I wore him out," I say. "I just made him tired so that he wouldn't get back up." _Then I stabbed him and he bled to death,_ I think, but I don't say it out loud.

Jupiter wraps everything up, and I'm escorted outside, to a car that will bring to the train station which will bring me home. Back to District 7.

Without the boy who came here with me.

 **Sorry this chapter is ridiculously long. I just wanted all of the stuff in the Capitol in one chapter. The next chapter is going to be the last. It's what happens when Mimosa gets back to District 7. I decided to skip over the train ride back because it didn't seem important to me. And honestly, I didn't have the motivation to write a train ride. Please remember to review. And there's a new poll on my profile! Please vote!**


	28. Back in District 7

**This is it! The final chapter of the 4th Quarter Quell! Thank you to everybody who stuck with me though this story. It feels so satisfying to finally click complete.**

* * *

"Mimosa!"

All of a sudden, the crowd of people means nothing to me as Trill races toward me, Hickory trailing behind her. She throws herself into my arms. I bury my head in her hair, tears in my eyes. Hickory worms his way in, too. I know the cameras are on us, but I don't care. I'm with my family again. I'm back home again.

"I missed you guys," I say, my voice shaking.

"I'm glad you're home," Trill mumbles against my chest. Hickory doesn't say anything. He just holds me, and I think he's crying. He doesn't pull away from me, even when we go to see our mother. She hugs me, and tells me that I made her proud.

My mother peels Hickory off of me. He finally looks at me with his eyes bloodshot from crying, and says to me, "I didn't think you were coming back."

That hits me hard. My own brother didn't think I was coming back? Then again, I wasn't sure I was coming back. I thought I was going to bleed to death in the arena with Dock. It takes all my willpower not to start crying.

"Well, _I_ knew you were coming back to us." I smile before I even turn and see who spoke. It has been almost a month since we spoke, but I would recognize that voice anywhere. I fling myself into Forrest's waiting arms.

"I knew you could do it," Forrest whispers in my ear. I just smile while all the cameras focus on us. I can already imagine the Capitol reporters discussing who this boy I'm with is. My boyfriend, perhaps? Or a brother I didn't mention? But I know he's my best friend.

Things calm down after about an hour. I've received congratulations from everybody in the district, except one family who stays in the corner of the train station. Forrest's family has left, along with my mother and Hickory and the Capitol reporters and cameras. Only a few people are here. The mayor's family, Elm, Willow, the family that hid in the corner, and me and Trill. Trill hasn't left my side. And she hasn't stopped smiling.

The mayor congratulates me, his oldest daughter with him. I know the girl, Syrena, from school. She's two years older than me, and thinks everybody is beneath her. She smiles coldly at me, like I am an insect she is about to step on.

"Congratulations, Mimosa," she says, her father agreeing.

"Yes," the mayor agrees. "You've made us proud." He embraces me, then turns to go.

Trill points across the train station, to the young girl and woman standing away from the crowd. "They're the Lindells," she tells me. "We watched a lot of the Games with them. The girl's name is Piper."

The Lindells… Fletch's family. The thought of meeting them makes my heart begin to race. I don't know what to say to them. What do I tell a mother and sister who just lost their son and brother? I take a deep breath, then approach them.

My first words? "I'm sorry."

As soon as the words leave my mouth, the girl, Piper, curls up against her mother with tears starting to wet her cheeks.

"It's been difficult without—" Fletch's mother chokes up for a moment. "Without Fletch around. But I'm glad you won, Mimosa, and not that awful boy from Four." Her face contorts in anger and sadness and I'm confused about that until I remember that Dock killed Fletch.

"Thank you," I say. "Fletch was a great person. You should be proud of him for lasting so long."

"I am," Fletch's mother says, smiling. "My boy made me so proud."

Piper looks at me. Her face is so full of sorrow and pain that I want to apologize for coming back. She obviously wants her brother rather than me. Surprisingly, she smiles shyly.

"I was rooting for you and Fletch," she says. "I'm happy it was you who won when Fletch died."

"Thank you," I say, and Piper hugs me.

I think I've made a friend.

* * *

A few days later, we've moved out of our small home and into the Victor's Village. I already miss my old home. It may have been small and cramped, but it was where I lived before the Games. When I'm there, I can almost imagine my life before I won and became famous across Panem. Of course, that's just a dream, a false hope. I can never go back to before.

As I lay on my bed in my new bedroom, I can't help but think about the arena. I have so little to occupy my time, I've been thinking about it a lot lately. I remember Dock and Gossamer and Glint and Quinoa. Little Tellin, who was like a sister to me. But most of all, Fletch Lindell, my district partner. I feel the tears welling in my eyes when my mother steps into my room holding and envelope.

"This just came for you," she says, handing it to me. I sit up, pretending to look interested. I don't really want to open it. I've gotten fan mail from people in the Capitol. I don't need anymore. I'm about to throw in on the floor until I notice who and where it's from. _The Pier family, District 4._

Tentatively, I open the envelope and pull out a letter. Out falls something silver. I lift it so I can better see it, then drop it in my bed again in shock. It's a silver necklace, with a silver anchor charm, a seashell and a new charm, a piece of green glass shaped like a tree. It's Tellin's necklace.

Carefully, I unfold the letter.

 _Dear Mimosa,_

 _First of all, I just want to say thank you for protecting Tellin. I didn't think anybody would. When the Careers kicked her out, I didn't think she had a chance. But you found her and took her under your wing. I can not thank you enough for that._

 _You may be wondering why I gave you Tellin's necklace. I couldn't keep it. It just reminded me of her death. I couldn't look at it without remembering she's gone. It's a thank you for protecting her with your life. If I could, I would have volunteered to save her from that arena. You did that for me._

 _I'll admit, I wasn't sure who I wanted to win. Dock was from my district, after all. But you were the underdog. I was sad that District 4 couldn't have a victor, but I'm glad you won. Congratulations, Mimosa. I'll see you in a few months for your Victory Tour._

 _Yours, Marina Pier_

I reread the letter several times. Then I look at the necklace in disbelief. Tellin's sister wanted me to have it? I guess so. Because it's sitting right next to me when it should be with Marina.

"Dinner's ready." I look up. Hickory is standing in my doorway. "What's that?"

"A letter from Tellin's family," I answer. Hickory shakes his head. He points at something on my bed.

"No, _that,_ " he says. I glance down.

"It's her necklace," I mumble. Hickory looks like he understands. He smiles. "So are you coming or not?"

I laugh—a simple, pure sound of delight. My ally's necklace, my brother's smile. I didn't think I would ever see that smile again, and I'm so grateful I can see it now.

"You know I am," I say, standing. I slip my arm through Hickory's. He pulls me to the dining room.

Where the rest of my family waits. Twenty three people stood between me and them. I fought hard to make it back to them.

I'm glad I did.

 **And that's it! Again, thank you to everybody who has read this. I can't believe I'm finished with this. In a few days, I'll post the prologue for the 101st Hunger Games. I hope you guys check that out too! Thank you all so much!**

 **-D9T**


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